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DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS. 

A Partial List of Successful and Popular Plays. Lar|{e Catalogue Free. 
Price 15 Cents Each, Postpaid- Unless Different Price is Given. 



DRAMAS. COMEDIES. ENTER- 
TAINMENTS, Etc. 

M. F. 

After the Game, 2 acts, 1%. 

hrs (25c) 1 9 

All a Mistake, 3 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 4 4 
All That Glitters Is Not Gold, 

2 acts, 2 hrs 6 3 

Altar of Riches, 4 acts, 2;^ hrs. 

(25c) 5 5 

American Hustler, 4 acts, 2}/$ 

hrs (25c) 7 4 

Arabian Nights, 3 acts, 2 hrs... 4 5 
Bank Cashier, 4 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 8 4 
Black Heifer, 3 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 9 3 

Bonnybell, 1 hr (25c).Optnl. 

Brookdale Farm, 4 acts, 2J4 hrs. 

(25c) 7 3 

Brother Josiah, 3 acts, 2 h.(25c) 7 4 
Busy Liar, 3 acts, 2^ hrs. (25c) 7 4 

Caste, 3 acts, 2V2 hrs 5 3 

Corner Drug Store, 1 hr. (25c) 17 14 
Cricket on the Hearth, 3 acts, 

I3yi hrs 7 8 

Danger Signal, 2 acts, 2 hrs... 7 4 
Daughter of the Desert, 4 acts, 

2^4 hrs (25c) 6 4 

Down i.: Dixie, 4 acts, 2y2 hrs. 

(25c) 8 4 

East Lynne, 5 acts, 2 '4 hrs 8 7 

Editor-in-Chief. 1 hr (25c) 10 

Elma, 13^ hrs (25c) Optnl. 

Enchanted Wood, 1^ h.(35c) Optnl. 

Eulalia, i;^ hrs (25c) Optnl. 

Face at the Window, 3 acts, 2 

hrs (25c) 4 4 

From Sumter to Appomattox, 4 

acts, 2y2 hrs (25c) 6 2 

Fun on the Podunk Limited, 

VA hrs (25c) 9 14 

Handy Andy(Irish),2acts,li^ h. 8 2 
Heiress of Hoetown, 3 acts, 2 

hrs (25c) 8 4 

High School Freshman, 3 acts, 

2 h (25c) 12 

Home, 3 acts, 2 hrs 4 3 

Honor of a Cowboy, 4 acts, 2^ 

hrs .- (25c) 13 4 

Iron Hand, 4 acts, 2 hrs.. (25c) 5 4 
It's All in the Pay Streak, 3 

acts, 1^ hrs (25c) 4 3 

Jayville Junction, lyi hrs.(2Sc)14 17 
Jedediah Judkins, J. P., 4 acts, 

21/4 hrs (2Sc) 7 5 

Kingdom of Heart's Content, 3 

acts, 214 hrs (25c) 6 12 

Light Brigade, 40 min (25c) 10 

Little Buckshot, 3 acts, 2%. hrs. 

(2Sc) 7 4 

Lodge of Kye Tyes, 1 hr.(25c)13 
Lonelyville Social Club, 3 acts, 

iy2 hrs (25c) 10 



M. F. 

Louva, the Pauper, 5 acts, 2 h. . 9 4 
Man from Borneo, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 

(2Sc) 5 2 

Man from Nevada, 4 acts, 2^ 

hrs (25c) 9 5 

Mirandy's Minstrels (25c) Optnl. 

New Woman, 3 acts, 1 hr 3 6 

Not Such a Fool as He Looks, 

3 acts, 2 hrs 5 3 

Odds with the Enemy, 4 acts, 

IH hrs 7 4 

Old Maid's Club, iVi hrs. (25c) 2 16 
Old School at Hick'ry Holler, 

1J4 hrs (25c)12 9 

Only Daughter, 3 acts, 1% hrs. 5 2 
On the Little Big Horn, 4 acts, 

214 hrs (25c) 10 4 

Our Boys, 3 acts, 2 hrs 6 4 

Out in the Streets, 3 acts, 1 hr. 6 4 

Pet of Parson's Ranch, 5 acts, 2 h. 9 2 

School Ma'am, 4 acts, IK hrs.. 6 5 

Scrap of Paper, 3 acts, 2 hrs.. 6 6 

Seth Greenback, 4 acts, 1 14 hrs. 7 3 

Soldier of Fortune, 5 acts, 2 5^2 h. 8 3 

Solon Shingle, 2 acts, 1^ hrs.. 7 2 

Sweethearts, 2 acts, 35 min.... 2 2 
Ten Nights in a Barroom, 5 

acts, 2 hrs 7 4 

Third Degree, 40 min (25c) 12 

Those Dreadful Twins, 3 acts, 

2 hrs (25c) 6 4 

Ticket-of -Leave Man, 4 acts, 2 J4 

hrs 8 3 

Tonv, The Convict, 5 acts, 2^/4 

hrs (25c) 7 4 

Topp's Twins, 4 acts, 2 h. . (25c) 6 4 

Trip to Storyland, 1% hrs.(2Sc)17 23 

Uncle Josh, 4 acts, 2^4 hrs. (25c) 8 3 

Under the Laurels, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 6 4 
Under the Spell, 4 acts, 2}^ 

hrs (25c) 7 3 

Yankee Detective, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 8 3 

FARCES, COMEDIETTAS. Etc. 

April Fools, 30 min 3 

Assessor, The, 10 min 3 2 

Aunt Matilda's Birthday Party, 

35 min K 

Baby Show at Pineville, 20 min. 19 

Bad Job, 30 min 3 2 

Betsy Baker, 45 min 2 2 

Billy's Chorus Girl, 25 min... 2 3 

Billy's Mishap, 20 min 2 3 

Borrowed Luncheon, 20 min.. 5 

Borrowing Trouble, 20 min.... 3 5 

Box and Cox, 35 min 2 1 

Cabman No. 93, 40 min.. 2 2 

Case Against Casey, 40 min... 23 < 
Convention of Papas, 25 min. . . 7 

Country Justice, 15 min 8 

Cow that Kicked Chicago, 20 m. 3 2 



T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, 154 W. Randolph SU Chicago 



The Old Oaken Bucket 



A RURAL DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS 



BY 

MARY MONCURE PARKER 

AL'THOK OF 

'Mrs. Busby's Pink Tea" and "Lucindy Goes to Town' 



CHICAGO 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 

Publishers 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET 



CHARACTERS. 

Reuben Hardacre A Square, Honest Old Farmer 

Tom His Son, a Chip of the Old Block 

Arthur Ames True Blue 

Mark Hayward A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing 

Jake Tompkins 

. . . .In Love with Teddy, ''Not Wisely hut Too Well" 

Mr. G. Whillikins A Neighbor 

EzRY Babb. .The Postmaster Who Reads the Postal Cards 

Rev. William Mason The Peacemaker 

Martha Hardacre . .Reuben's Wife Loved by Everybody 
Lizzie Lawrence. . .T/?^ Light of Uncle Reuben's Eyes 
Emily Lawrence (Otherzvise known as Teddy) .... 

The Sunshine of the Household 

Sapphira Scriggins The Village Gossip 

Mrs. G. Whillikins Very Proper But Not Charitable 

Miry Jones The Village Belle 

Time — The Present. 

Place — A Rural District. 

Time of Playing — About Two Hours. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I — Exterior of the Hardacre Farm House. Sunday 
afternoon. 

Act H — Kitchen and living room in the home of Reuben 
Hardacre. The next morning. 
. Act hi — The same, two years later. Winter. 

Act IV — Kitchen and living room in the home of 
Reuben Hardacre. One week later. 

Notice— Production of this play is free to amateurs, but the 
sole professional rights are reserved by the Publishers. 

copyright, 1913, by eben h. norris. 
2 

Tl^P96-007520 

0)CLD 34810 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 



Synopsis for program. 

Act I. — Farmyard at the Hardacre farm. ''Reuben, you 
air so sot." "Jedge not." The village gossip makes things 
lively. Jake's love-making draws down a bucket of water 
upon his shaggy head as merry Teddy laughingly refuses 
him. The young- artist recognizes a villain and also makes 
a conquest at the old well. Mark's education and good 
looks captivate Lizzie. "Meet me at the old log cabin at 
midnight." "Oh, Uncle, forgive me." 

Act II — Interior Hardacre farm house. The early risers. 
Even Ted gets up early to pick flowers. The Artist's folio. 
''Well I'll be darned if that don't look just like Ted." Best 
blue dining set for breakfast. An important guest. The 
discovery of Lizzie's plight. "You read the letter, Tom, 
I can't." Sapphira bobs in. "I shudder to think I might 
have been drawed away." Reuben has a word to say to 
Sapphira. "Ain't nobody goin' to say a word agin' me or 
mine without gettin' acquainted with the way to the front 
door." True hearts and gingham skirts. Tom goes to 
find Lizzie. "He'll answer fer it with his life." 

Act III — Two years later. A winter evening. Jake reads 
the village paper. Laketown gettin' met-ro-pol-i-tan. Re- 
news suit. "-Gals is queer critters." "If you don't take me 
Ted, I'll go and propose to Miry Jones." A second rebuff, 
— "I hate to see you lose a good thing, Ted." Tarnal wood 
box empty again. The Artist's return. "You have never 
even written." The picture, "The Old Oaken Bucket," that 
brought fame and money. Happy hearts. Aunt Martha's 
amxazement. A stormy night — and a knock at the door. 
"It's Lizzie." The wanderer's return. Uncle Reuben's 
great joy. "You ain't been away from our hearts a min- 
ute." "God bless you for your sweet forgiveness." 

Act IV — One week later. Ted's wedding day. The 
happy household. A surprise party. Snow, sleighbells and 
merriment. The country dance. Ezry Babb calls off. Liz- 



4 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

zie's entrance — consternation. ''How's Mr. Hayward?" 
The wrath of the sturdy old farmer. Rev. Mason inter- 
venes. Tom asks Lizzie to be his wife. Sapphira won- 
ders — "The idea of him takin' her when he could get me." 



STORY OF THE PLAY. . 

Reuben Hardacre, known to everyone as Uncle Reuben, 
a farmer with a heart as big as his body, lives happily with 
his good old wife, his son, a square, upright chip of the 
old block, and two orphan relatives, Lizzie and Emily Law- 
rence, children of a cousin and old friend, at the Hardacre 
farm house. Life has moved along in the usual quiet, event- 
less way from season to season, until the advent of Mark 
Hay ward, a book agent and a man of education, but inci- 
dentally a hypocrite and the villain of the play. As the 
little rustic church is without a preacher, and Hayward 
is a good talker, although only a layman, the trustees have 
secured his services for a series of Sunday talks, thinking, 
of course, that he is what he represents himself to be. 
Hayward does not ring like true metal to honest Uncle 
Reuben, who, however, does not suspect that the younger 
man is lingering because of Lizzie Lawrence, a sweet, 
pretty young woman, serious and high-minded, who has 
received a better education than those about her. She and 
her sister, Emily, or Teddy, as she is called, a merry, 
happy, charming young girl, were educated at the school in 
their home town before the death of their parents, when 
they became the wards of Uncle Reuben. Hayward's good 
looks, superior education and attractive ways have capti- 
vated Lizzie in her turn, who looks upon him as a superior 
being. 

Arthur Ames, a young artist, who in a sketching tour 
about the country, came upon the old-fashioned well at the 
Hardacre farm house and begged to sketch it, has lingered 
at the home of the hospitable farmer because of his interest 
in Teddy. He is an honorable young man, much in love 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 5 

with the girl, but very poor in this world's goods. Jake 
Tompkins, a hired man, a typical country bumpkin, is also 
in love with Teddy, but she laughs at his pretensions. Tom, 
the strong manly son of the house, has a deep affection for 
Lizzie, but does not express his feeHngs openly, believing 
she does not care for him except as a friend. The father 
of the girls was a distant relative and lifelong friend of 
Uncle Reuben, who loves them as though they were his 
own. When at the beginning of the second act it is 
discovered that Lizzie has eloped with Mark Hayward, 
Uncle Reuben's heart is bowed with grief. He sends 
Arthur Ames away^ not believing in his intentions, and 
the young man cannot say much, as he is poor and has his 
way to make in the world. Sapphira Scriggins, a mischief- 
making, gossipy old maid, with a sense of humor and not 
quite the right idea of truth, bobs in and out of the Hard- 
acre home with her stories and gossip. Tom goes to find 
Lizzie, but does not succeed. She comes back, however, 
having discovered that Hayward is a villain, and is for- 
given and taken back by the dear ones who love her. 
Teddy, who has grown grave and sad because of the events 
that have come into her life, but who still turns down the 
proposals of poor Jake Tompkins, is suddenly restored to 
happiness, not only by Lizzie's return, but because Arthur 
Ames comes back from abroad to claim her. He has at- 
tained success and a name with a picture of a girl standing 
by an old well which he entitled "The Old Oaken Bucket." 
The girl on the canvas, which had brought him fame, was 
Teddy. 

The other characters, Mr. and Mrs. G. Whillikins, 
Miry Jones, Ezry Babb and the Rev. William Mason, come 
in for the merrymaking and country dance at the wedding 
of Arthur and Teddy in the last act. 

Lizzie's entrance causes a disturbance among the nar- 
row minded neighbors. The Rev. William Mason, a noble, 
kind-hearted clergyman, brings them to their sense of right 
and justice. Tom asks Lizzie to marry him, and Sapphira 
wonders how^ Tom could want Lizzie "when he could get 
me." The curtain falls on the rural drama — "'"he Old 



6 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Oaken Bucket" — with peace in the Httle community and 
happiness to those beloved by good old Reuben and his 
dear old wife. 



CHARACTERS AND COSTUMES. 

Reuben Hardacre — Makeup stout, about sixty-five 
years of age, hale, hearty and ruddy. In first act wears 
Sunday clothes — white shirt, black vest (no coat), black 
trousers. Second act : Gingham shirt, overalls, big straw 
hat. Third act: Farm clothes. Comes in with big overcoat, 
red woolen scarf wound about his neck, cap with earlaps. 
Fourth act : Same as first, wears coat at wedding ceremony, 
takes it off when guests come. 

Aunt Martha — About sixty years of age, kind-faced, 
stout, dressed in black dress, white apron, with small shawl 
about her shoulders, for the first act. Second act : Calico 
dress, gingham apron. Same, third act, with shawl about 
her shoulders. Fourth act : Same as first act, for the wed- 
ding — best black gown. 

Tom — Square shouldered, quiet, has little to say, but is 
good natured and attractive. First act: Has on white shirt, 
dark trousers, but wears overalls, as he has been attending 
to farm duties ; large straw hat. Second act : Farm work- 
ing cothes, overalls, gingham shirt, etc. Third act: Winter 
clothes, overcoat, cap, boots. Last act: Dark suit, white 
shirt, black tie. 

Lizzie Lawrence — Dainty, attractive, about twenty- 
two. Simple white gown and straw hat, flower trimmed, 
first act. Third act: Plain black gown and cape and hood. 
Fourth act : Simple black gown. 

Emily, or Teddy, as she is called, about seventeen, lively 
and sweet tempered. First act : Dark skirt and white shirt- 
waist and white brimmed hat. Second act : Gingham dress, 
apron and sunbonnet Third act : Dark woolen gown, apron. 
Fourth act: Simple white wedding gown, flowers in her 
hair. 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 7 

Arthur Ames: About twenty-four. Dressed in artist's 
brown velveteen coat and dark trousers with flowing black 
tie, white shirt, or may wear Norfolk suit and leggings in 
first act. Second act : Same. Third act : Dark suit and 
ulster. Last act : Black suit, white shirt, etc ; may be Prince 
Albert or cutaway coat, gray trousers and gray gloves, 
flower in buttonhole. 

Mark LIayward — Attractive, about thirty-five, slightly 
gray at temples ; black suit, flowing black tie, white shirt, 
soft, rather wide brimmed black hat, such as might be 
worn by a professional man. 

Jake Tompkins — About twenty, awkward, loutish, good 
hearted chap. First act: Sunday-best, checked trousers, 
dark coat, striped shirt, white collar, red necktie and small 
derby hat. Second act : Overalls, gingham shirt, straw hat. 
Third act: Rough winter farm clothes, heavy pea jacket, 
woolen scarf around neck, cap and mittens. Fourth act: 
Same as first. 

Sapphira Scriggins — Old maid about forty-five; cork- 
screw curls, shrewd, shrewish, but with a sense of humor 
and not unattractive. First act : Poke bonnet, veil, old-fash- 
ioned flowered silk or cloth dress, old-fashioned wrap, 
white stockings and black shoes or slippers. Second act : 
Gingham apron, calico dress, sunbonnet. Fourth act : Same 
as first. 

Mr. G. Whillikins — Fifty years of age, gray hair and 
chin beard; old-fashioned suit. Spruced up for a party; 
overcoat and woolen neck scarf. 

Mrs. G. Whillikins — Fifty years of age, old-fashioned 
dark silk or cloth dress, white lace collar, large brooch, 
gray hair, old-fashioned wrap and bonnet. 

Miry Jones — Nineteen; hair curled and hanging tied 
with ribbon bow, white or colored gown, sash, white stock- 
ing and black slippers. 

Ezry Babb — Forty years of age, old-fashioned, suit too 
short in sleeves and trouser legs; white shirt, bright col- 
ored tie. 



8 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Rev. William Mason — Clergyman of fifty; neat black 
suit and tie, white shirt and collar ; must look neat and cler- 
ical and dignified. 



LIST OF PROPERTIES. - 

Act I — Square old-fashioned well, old bucket with rope 
and pulley ; bench without back against well ; well can easily 
be made of a large, square, hollow box, stained dark, 
with pulley, handle and rope, ledge on corner on which to 
rest bucket (padding on floor inside box so that bucket will 
not sound on floor when lowered) rocker; straight chair; 
pitcher, glasses; bottle of sarsaparilla or pop to represent 
home-made wine ; plate of cookies ; fence ; gate entrance 
(it is not necessary to have the gate) ; two tin milk pails 
for Jake; bicycle and sketch book for Arthur; palm leaf 
fan on porch ; pipe for Uncle Reuben ; bench ; wash basin 
and towel. 

Act II — Cook stove; pots and pans; white curtain on 
window ; calico for valance over top of curtain ; bench 
across window covered with ruffled calico ; cupboard, com- 
mon white china, blue and white china ; several plates, cups 
and saucers, covered dish ; pitcher ; coffee pot ; platter ; roller 
towel ; stand ; basin ; comb ; small mirror ; picture or two ; 
vase ; six common kitchen chairs ; rocker ; artificial flowers 
for Teddy ; red table cloth ; white table cloth ; biscuits ; 
knives and forks ; coffee, and enough eatables to give the 
semblance of breakfast ; letter for Teddy ; armful of wood 
for Jake; box for wood; wall shelf; clock (optional). 

Act III — Pitcher ; two glasses, dish of apples ; red table 
cloth ; newspaper for Jake ; sewing for Teddy ; woolen com- 
forter for Jake; salt used as snow on coats for Arthur, 
Reuben and Tom when they come from outside; knitting 
for Aunt Martha; armful of wood for Jake; newspaper 
for Tom; socks for Aunt Martha's darning; sleighbells. 

Act IV — Salt to be used as snow for those who come 
from outside ; sleighbells ; two large baskets, one contain- 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 9 

ing apples, doughnuts, sandwiches, cake, etc., the other the 
bridal presents ; plush album ; plush collar and cuff boxes ; 
quilt; old-fashioned caster with vinegar cruet, salt, pepper, 
etc. ; fiddle or mouth organ for Ezry Babb if he can play ; 
if not, music can be supplied by orchestra or piano from 
the audience room. 



10 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 



STAGE SETTINGS. 



Act I. 



Fence 



Fence 




Wood Wings 



A set house will, of course, add to the effect of Act 1, yet it is 
not absolutely necessary, and in case one is not used all en- 
trances and exits marked "door of house" should be made L. 2 E. 



/ 



Acts II, III and IV 

, 1 window f- 



Door 



Cupboard 

o 



o 



Q 



nch with \ 
ish Basin i- 



o 



o/ /o 



Table and Chairs 



Chairs 

o 



Door 



Stove 




In Act III and IV only three chairs at the table, the remainder 
placed about the room. If not convenient to have a stove on the 
stage, have it appear to be off L. or behind a screen at the L. side 
of the stage. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R., means right of stage; C, center; R. C, right center; 
L., left; 1 E., first entrance; U. E., upper entrance; R. 3 E., 
right entrance upstage, *etc. ; D. F., door of flat or back of 
the stage; upstage away from footlights, downstage, near 
footlights. The actor is supposed to be facing the audience. 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET 



ACT I. 



Scene : Farm yard at Uncle Reuben Hardacre's; side 
porch and part of house in view, L.; ham supposedly at 
right of stage; fence with gate at rear of stage divides 
house and yard from barn yard; an old well zvith oaken 
bucket and chain at R. of stage in front of fence; a bench 
or seat in front of puell. Aunt Martha seated in a rocker 
near the porch, reading her Bible; Uncle Reuben in stiff- 
ness of Sunday boiled shirt seated on the steps of porch 
whittling. Plate of cookies on porch beside Uncle 
Reuben. 

Uncle Reuben. I ain't meanin' to be critical, but some- 
how it don't seem to me his talk rings true. Leastaways 
'taint the same way I interprets Scripter, but I s'pose I'm 
ole fogy an' behin' the times. 

Aunt Martha. Jedge not that ye be not jedged. t never 
seen a man more clever or better versed in Scripter. 

Reuben. Oh, you wimmin folks is gone clear off the 
handle about him. I s'pose if Mark Hayward was to leave 
here tomorrow he'd have a string o' wimmin folks follerin' 
him like the young 'uns after that Piper o' Hamlin that 
Lizzie was readin' about the other day. 

Martha. Now Reuben, you know you said he was 
smart as a weasel when he fust come — 

Reuben. I ain't sayin' but what he's smart enough — 
full of book learnin' an' things I ain't ever heerd on, but 
I know when a man speaks from his soul an' with a heart 
full to bustin' with what he feels, an' I ain't accusin' him 
of it. Now I don't claim to be a Bible stoodent, but I ain't 
read the Scripter fer all these years fer nothin' neither, 
an' I say some of the things he makes the Bible say ain't 
what it do say, accordin' to my notion. (Martha looks up 
over the rims of her glasses.) 

11 



12 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Martha. We've been married five and thirty year, 
Reuben Hardacre, an' I never see you display so onchris- 
tian a spirit before. Why, you was the fust to want that 
young man to stay here and preach when he come round 
selHn' books two months ago. He wan't a regular ordained 
preacher, but he'd stay till we got a settled pastor. You 
know most of the people likes him better'n anybody we 
ever had. (Reuben pulls at his stubby beard and tzvists 
Jiis Jiead about, to make more eomfortable the "biled" shirt 
in zvhich he suffers a Sunday martyrdom.) 

Reuben. I know, I know. I was mighty sot on him 
myself at fust an' I ain't sayin' but what I like him well 
enough now, but I still say there's suthin' that don't ring 
like true metal in what he says, leastways to me — an' 
it seems like there is suthin' behind it all that I can^t 
quite make out. (He takes out his pipe, fills and lights it 
and sits puffing away on the step.) 

Martha. It's that biled shirt, Reuben. It makes a dif- 
ferent man of ye. Somehow you git kind of cantankerous 
when you hev on anything but a gingham shirt. 

Reuben. Mebbe that's so, Marthy. It's like them gold- 
rimmed Sunday glasses of yourn — you don't act nateral 
with 'em on. Now put on your steel-bowed everyday specs 
an' you're the same good feller that's worked side by side 
with me fur nigh onto forty years. From sunrise to sunset 
old lady we've pulled together in harness fur many a day, 
and we hev got a pretty good place here an' ain't had many 
fallin's out — eh, Marthy? {Rubbing his hands together.) 

Martha. That's so, Reuben ; but I don't know as every 
woman could live peacable with you — you air so sot — 

Reuben. I don't want every woman to live with me — 
one's all I kin manage. I know I am sot, Marthy, but I 
ain't often fooled in my judgment jest the same. You 
know, Marthy, you said when we fust settled on this land 
that it wan't never going to 'mount to nothing. Deer was 
runnin' through the timber land and sometimes wilder 
critters. Wolves used to come up to the door of the old 
log cabin yonder (points), but we stuck to it, you an' I, 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 13 

through rain an' shine, an' we've seen this "wilderness 
blossom hke a rose," eh, old lady? 

Martha. Well, 'cause you was right for once ain't no 
sign you are alius right as I can see. 

Reuben. I ain't claimin' to be alius right, but this man 
somehow riles my stummick — somehow I don't like the 
way he looks at Lizzie — 

Martha. Reuben Hardacre, you're as full o' notions 
as an old maid. 

Reuben. Well, you know my one idee is to see Tom 
and Lizzie married, an' I don't want nothin' to come in the 
way of it. Ever since poor John died and left them gals 
to me they've been the sunshine of my life. You know 
John never could get along an' the best thing he ever did, 
by gosh, was to up an' die. 

Martha. Reuben, you make a fool of yourself over them 
gals, and especially Lizzie. Men is apt to take to a pretty 
gal as flies to the molasses jug; but Mr. Hayward ain't 
payin' Lizzie no unusual attention, I don't think. {Pauses 
and listens a moment.) What team's that comin' down the 
road. I think I hear one. (Reuben rises and walks to gate 
and shades his eyes with his hands.) 

Reuben. Well, speakin' of old maids; it looks like it 
might be Sapphiry Scriggins and the old gray mare — an' 
it is. Git ready to hear a pack of lies. (Comes back to 
Martha.) 

Martha. The Bible says lyin' lips are an abomination 
to the Lord an' how she's goin' to git round that ver§e 
when she gits to heaven — an' bein' a church member in 
good an' reg'lar standin' L s'pose she 'spects to git there — 
is more'n I kin tell. 

Reuben. Trust her to lie round it. Peter'U open the gate 
meek as Moses when Sapphiry gits to tellin' some of her 
yarns. (Walks back to gate as Sapphira drives up in an 
imaginary buggy and calls ''Whoa' back of scenes, off 
stage. Martha rises.) Howdy, Sapphiry. Unlight and rest 
yourself, won't ye? (Exit L.) 

Sapphira (off stage). Well, I ain't got long to stay, but 
I believe I'll stop a leetle while. 



14 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET, 

Enter Sapphira, L. 

Martha (at C). Howdy, Sapphlry. Will you go inside 
or set out here? 

Sapphira {shakes hands with Martha). Let's set right 
here. It's most as warm as summer today. There, let me 
get a cheer. (Martha steps inside of door of house and 
hands out a chair.) Don't wait on me, Martha. I'm 
younger'n you be. My, this is pleasant. (Sits down and 
fans herself zvith a big palm leaf fan which is on the porch. 
Martha places chair at C. and gets the plate of cookies.) 

Martha. Have a cookie, Sapphiry? 

Sapphira. Cookies. Well I know what your cookies is. 

Enter Reuben through gate at C. 

Martha. Reuben, bring out some grape wine. (Reuben 
goes into house.) 

Sapphira. Seems to me like I never seen the earth 
lookin' so fine, everything so green and smellin' so fresh 
and new, like it do this spring. 

Enter Reuben with wine and glasses. 

Reuben. Have some grape wine, Sapphiry? 

Sapphira. Grape wine. Well, everybody knows what 
your grape wine is, .Marthy. (Reuben pours her a gener- 
ous glass.) 

Reuben. Say when. 

Sapphira. There, there; that's a plenty. You'll be 
makin' a toper out of me. {Leans hack and rocks, sipping 
wine and munching cookies.) 'Twas fine drivin' along 
the road today. Too bad Ezry Babb's sick. (Reuben goes 
to former seat on porch.) 

Martha {sits in her rocker L.). Ezry sick? 

Sapphira. Sick — ain't you heerd? Why, the doctor says 
he has the pleurfsy. (Sapphira looks up triumphantly as 
the hearer of news. She pronounces the word with the long 
i sound and she is quite joyous zvhen she sees hy the ex- 
pressions upon the faces of her hearers that they have not 
the slightest idea as to what manner of disease the pleurisy 
might he.) 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 15 

Martha (trying to appear unconcerned) . Anything like 
the ammonia? You know Miry Jones had that last winter. 

Sapphira (looking very wise). Oh, no! Much worse 
than the pneumonia, I think. (With the stress on the cor- 
rected syllable.) My sister Louisa had the pleurisy once. 

Reuben (zvinks slyly at Martha). Your kin has had 
most every sort of disease and mishap, ain't they Sapphiry? 

Sapphira (not noticing the interruption). Let's see; 
'twas the middle of '73 or it might have been '74 and 
Louisa was terrible sick. You know in this here pleurisy 
a body's chest gits all filled up with water, an' one night, 
when I was sleepin' with Louisa — I nursed her, you know 
— I heerd suthin' goin' swish, swash, swish, swash, an' 
I says, "Louisa, have you got your hand shakin' it round 
in a bucket of water?" An' she says, "No; how foolish 
you talk." An' what do you think that noise came from, 
Marthy? Why, 'twas made by Louisa's heart and lung 
rolling round in the water in her chest. 

Reuben (aside). I don't know what pleurisy is, but I'll 
bet dollars to doughnuts that's a lie. 

Sapphira (taking a sip of wine, by no means exhausted 
after her effort and reaching for another cooky.) LIow 
do you like Mr. Hayward for a preacher? Some of the 
members likes him awful well and some says he ain't 
orthydox — 

Reuben (zvho has settled himself comfortably on the 
edge of the porch against one up the uprights, stops whit- 
tling and interrupts) . Them's my sentiments. I was just 
tellin' 'em to Marthy as you come up. I don't want to be 
onchristian — 

Martha. Now, Reuben Hardacre, I wouldn't say no 
more if I was you. 

Sapphira. Oh, don't be afeard of my repeatin' what 
he says, Marthy. You know I ain't no gossip an' this is just 
between friends ; 'twon't go .no further. 

Reuben (aside). 'Twon't travel no further till she gits 
started hum. 

Sapphira. Besides, 'tain't no more than what lots of 



16 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

other folks is sayin'. You know he ain't a reg'lar ordained 
preacher — he's just a book agent. 

Reuben {emphatically). What I says I stands by, an' I 
ain't afeerd of no man. Of course I don't want to be un- 
just, an' some folks, the women folks 'specially — 

Sapphira. Not me. 

Martha. I'm afeerd he kind of snubbed you, Sapphiry. 

Sapphira {Having up). Snubbed me. Well, I guess not; 
he didn't get a chance. 

Reuben. You excepted, of course, Sapphiry ; but most 
of 'em seems to be head over heels in love with him and 
his idees. 

Martha. Not his idees, Reuben — the Lord's. He's been 
expoundin' Scripter to us. {The stubborn old farmer 
shakes his head.) 

Reuben. I ain't so sure about the idees. My Bible and 
his'n is two kinds of Scripter, I'm thinkin'. 

Sapphira {ivith a birdlike twist of her head). Lizzie 
seems to like his way of teachin'. I seen her an' him 
walkin' along the road, discussin' somethin' as I come along 
just now. 

Reuben {gives Sapphira quick look). Lizzie an' the 
preacher? Why, Lizzie went alone fur a walk 'bout an 
hour ago. 

Sapphira {slyly and with malice in her tone). Must have 
got lonesome then, for she wasn't alone when I see her. 
(Uncle Reuben gets up and walks back to gate nervously.) 
I don't want to say nothin', but maybe it's my duty an' 
you ought to know that folks is talkin' scandalous about 
the way Lizzie an' Mr. Hayward is goin' on. They're 
sayin' Lizzie's dead set on the preacher an' he ain't got no 
notion of marryin' her. 

Reuben {comes to front of stage angrily). Who's 
talkin' that kind of stuff? 

Sapphira {looking somewhat frightened) . Oh, nobody 
I kin name in partickler ; it's just general talk. 

Reuben. Well, if you hear any more sech talk, Sap- 
phiry Scriggins, ye kin tell the talker that Reuben Hard- 
acre ain't so old nor so weak that he can't lick the stuffiin' 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 17 

out of any darned liar or scandalmonger that ever walked. 

Martha {looking horrified). Reuben, Reuben. Sech 
language, an' on the Sabbath day, too. I'm ashamed of ye. 

Sapphira {hastily 7'ising). I must be goin'. I'll tell what 
folks talks to me what you say, Reuben, and I guess there 
won't be much more said about it. (Reuben turns and 
goes out gate.) Well, goodby, Marthy. Come over soon. 
{Goes to gate. Reuben exits. Sapphira calls.) I can un- 
tie the aid mare, Reuben, thank ye. Doll, Doll; be still, 
you old fool. {Turning to Martha.) She's gettin' more 
playful every day she lives. Do you know, the other day 
I went to the barn fur some eggs fur Whillikins' hired 
man, and when I went past old Doll she caught the but- 
tons of my waist in her teeth an' bit every one of 'em off 
before you could say Jack Robinson. There stood Whilli- 
kins' hired man an' I was that mortified with my waist all 
open that I could a dropped an' I had to scurry up in the 
corner an' pin my waist together mighty quick, I kin tell 
ye. Well, goodby. Don't bother yur head 'bout what folks 
is sayin'. I've had a real nice afternoon. Goodby, Marthy. 
{Exit L. Back of scenes.) Goodby, Reuben. 
Enter Reuben, L. 

Reuben (wrathfully). If she'd been a man I'd have 
knocked down the lyin' fool. 

Martha {picking tip the plate of cookies and soiled 
glasses). Well, if you don't stop usin' that kind of lan- 
guage, an' showin' sech a spirit, I'll have to ask the prayers 
of the church for your soul. 

Reuben {standing at C). You needn't ask the preacher 
to pray fur me though, fur I've a notion I'm as good as he 
be, an' maybe a sight better. {Turns tozvard gate and 
Martha goes into the house.) 

Enter Tom and Jake, R. 

Reuben (pausing at gate). Have ye seen Lizzie any- 
wheres? (Tom halts at gate. Jake goes through gate and 
exits with milk pails R.) 

Tom {comes through and stands at left of gate). Yes, 
I seen her, but she had better company than me. 



18 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Reuben (with a world of contempt in his tone). Better! 

Tom (with a shrug of his shoulders). Be that as it may. 
'Twas company she Hked better, anyway. 

Reuben (leans against fence right of gate chewing a 
wisp of hay. Reflectively). I dunno as you've got any 
cause to s'pose too much in that Hne. Young gals is like 
colts, kinder skittish. You can't get 'em in harness too 
soon. But Lizzie's level-headed. She may like her little 
fling, but she ain't got no notion of keerin fur that black- 
coated rooster. 

Jake (from the ham R. off stage). Co, boss — steady 
there. 

Tom (grimly). Maybe when a gal's face lights up when 
she sees a feller an' she don't look out of sorts when he 
puts his arm around her' 'tain't no sign of anything seri- 
ous an' maybe a rainbow ain't a sign that the rain's over, 
but things kinder points that way. 

Reuben (looking troubled). Air you talkin' about what 
you acterly seen? 

Tom. Oh, I seen enough, if it comes to that. (Then, 
after a short pause.) Lizzie's got a right to choose between 
us, father. God knows I wouldn't force her to marry me 
if she can't love me, though I love her better'n my own 
life; but I tell you one thing (and Tom raises his brawny 
fist and strikes a sounding blow against the gate post) if he 
don't mean to treat her square and honest, he'll answer 
for it, if he answers with his Hfe. (Crosses stage and 
exits L. Reuben stands for a moment, then heaves a sigh, 
follows Tom and exits R.) 

Enter Lizzie and Mark Hayward, L. They zvalk to the 
gate. She steps inside and he leans on the gate. 

Mark Hayward. And you say I am different from any- 
one you have ever met? 

Lizzie. Yes — so different. You understand me. You 
don't know what a lonely life I lead. 

Mark. I can readily understand that. These good peo- 
ple are so illiterate there could be nothing in common 
between you. 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 19 

Lizzie (putting her hands over her ears and crossing 
to well stoop). Oh, don't say that. I cannot bear to say 
anything that even sounds like criticism. They have been 
so kind, so good to me and to Teddy. {Sits dozvn on the 
bench in front of well. Mark follows.) You see, my dear 
father died about six years ago and we were left two help- 
less little girls, orphans, poor and all alone in the world. 
Then Uncle Reuben came and took us to his home and 
heart. We had no claim upon him. He was only father's 
second cousin, but he has treated us as his own children. 
So when I say I have been lonely it sounds so ungrateful. 

Mark {leaning over her). No, not ungrateful. You and 
they are of different mold. What do they see in a field of 
waving timothy that ripples and changes color in the wind 
like ocean waves, save a crop of hay — 

"A primrose by the river's brim, 
A simple primrose was to him, 
And it was nothing more." 
Would they care to read Tennyson or Longfellow? These 
country people buy my books because they want something 
in their book cases and on the shelves, but they seldom 
open them. Now you — you are superior. I recognized in 
you a kindred spirit. 

Lizzie. Oh, do you, too, feel that I am different ? I have 
gone to my little school day after day, and when the tasks 
were over and the school dismissed I have laid my head 
upon the desk and cried. I have felt like a bird in a cage, 
with such a longing to get away from here — to go out into 
the great world. But you do not care to know how I feel. 

Mark {tenderly). Poor little girl. And would you go 
away with me? 

Lizzie {lifting her head. Softly). I do not understand 
you — you cannot mean — {rising slowly). 

Mark {catching both her hands in his). I do mean that 
I want you to be mine — all mine. The air is full of the 
sweetness of springtime and love today and the apple and 
cherry trees are in a glory of bloom. The very birds in the 
trees help me to sing these words to you — Lizzie, I love 
vou. {Puts his anus about her and draws her up to him.) 



20 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Lizzie. And you want me to be your wife. Oh, Mark, 
I cannot believe it. 

Mark. Do you love me? 

Lizzie. With all my soul. Oh, Mark, I am so happy. 
It seems as though I must go and tell them all my new 
found joy. 

Mark. Hush, dear girl. Not yet. I do not wish you to 
say anything of it now. 

Lizzie {drazving a little from hmi). But why? They will 
be so glad. 

Mark. Because I do not wish to tell them my plans just 
yet. They would not understand and it is sweeter after 
all, dear, is it not, to keep our new happiness to ourselves? 

Lizzie. It shall be as you wish, dear. Oh, Mark, it is 
all so strange and sweet. That you should come and that 
you with your superior education should care for me. 
When you read aloud to me under the trees a world of 
beautiful thoughts opened up to me, and now to feel that 
I am to walk through life by your side — oh, I cannot be- 
lieve it ; it seems too good to be true. 

Mark. And will you go anywhere with me, sacrifice 
anything for me? 

Lizzie (with her arm about his neck). Anything, every- 
thing, dear one. I will go to the world's end if you but ask 
me. 

Mark (holding her close). My darling. 

Martha (calling from the house). Supper. 

Mark. Sh — there comes someone. (They fall apart.) 

Martha appears on the veranda. 

Martha (calling). Supper. (She sees Mark.) Why, 
Mr. Hay ward. (She steps down from porch and shakes 
hands.) I am glad to see ye. Come right in and have some 
supper. 

Mark. Thank you. I do not like to impose upon you. 

Martha. Impose. Lands sakes, there's always enough 
and to spare. Come right in. 

Lizzie. We want you to stay so much. 

Mark. Really, this is a combination I cannot resist — 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 21 

two such charming invitations with the good things Aunt 
Martha makes waiting inside to tempt the appetite. 

Martha. That's right ; go right inside. I wonder where 
them men folks is. (Mark and Lizzie go into the house. 
Martha goes to gate. Calling.) Teddy! Where is 
Ted? (Voice heard in the distance, singing gaily.) There 
she comes a kitin'. {Sound of horses hoofs.) I declare 
that gal's as wild as a young deer. (Teddy comes dashing 
up, noise behind scenes as of horses' hoofs.) 

Enter Jake, R. Exit through gate. 

Enter Teddy, L. 

Teddy {calling to Jake). There, Jake, take pretty good 
care of her because she is mighty warm. Hello, Aunty 
Mart. {Runs through the gate and grabs Martha around 
the waist and whirls her around.) 

Martha {trying to keep her balance). Lands sakes, 
gal, ain't you never a-goin' to get tame and settle down? 

Teddy. Hope not. People never settle down until they 
get married, and I pray heaven I may never get married. 

Martha. Why, how heathenish you talk. It's every 
woman's province to git married. 

Teddy {saucily). Indeed, Aunty. Well, how about Sap- 
phira Scriggins? 

Martha. Well, of course there do be some old maids, 
but you wan't never cut out for one — not a fly-away like 
you with a pretty face. Men. ain't got much sense an' 
them's the kind they pick. 

Teddy {runs to Martha and takes her face betzveen 
her hands). Oh, ho; so that's the kind you were, because 
Uncle Reuben picked you. 

Martha. Well, I wan't bad lookin' when I was young. 
{Goes up stage to gate.) But my sakes, I'll forgit about 
supper. I don't see what keeps Reuben and Tom and Jake. 
You tell 'em to hurry up. We're goin' to eat bekase Mr. 
Hayward's here and I want him to have the biscuits be- 
fore they're cold. 

Teddy {zvith a sniff). Oh, I'm sorry he's here. 

Martha. Wliy, Teddy! How unhospitable I 



22 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Teddy. Well, I am sorry. So there. But I'll call Uncle. 
(Martha goes into the house and Teddy runs to gate and 
calls.) Uncle! Oh, Uncle! 

Jake comes out from R. entrance to gate, pushing some 
milk cans in a little hand cart. Teddy holds gate open. 

Teddy. Where are Uncle and Tom, Jake? 

Jake. They seem to be kind of arguin'. {Puts milk 
cans on well stoop in a sort of trough and drazvs up a pail 
of water. Stands zvith one hand on the bucket.) 

Teddy. Well, supper's ready. (Starts toward house.) 

Jake. Say, Ted, wait a minute. 

Teddy {stops). Well, what is it? 

Jake. I don't often have a chance to see you alone. 
Won't you come here? 

Teddy {twirling her sunbonnet saucily). Come there. 
What for? 

Jake {bashfully, twisting his hat between his hands). 
I don't know as I kin tell you what for all at once. You 
laughed at me when I told you twice before. 

Teddy {co'ming toward him). Laughed. W^hy, the idea! 
{Bursts into a merry laugh.) 

Jake. Well, you won't take me serious, and you know 
I like you bettern'n any gal I ever see. Won't you give 
me a kiss, Teddy? (Teddy gives a stare of amazement, 
then recovers herself zvith a flash.) 

Teddy. So you want me to give you a kiss. Well, sit 
right down here. (Jake siis on the zvell stoop or on bench 
in front of well.) Now shut your eyes. (Jake closes his 
eyes and Teddy empties the bucket of zvater over his head. 
He springs up dripping and she runs toward the house, 
singing merrily.) 

The old oaken bucket, 
The iron bound bucket, 
The moss covered bucket 
That hangs in the well. 

{Exit Teddy into the house.) 
Enter Reuben and Tom. They come through gate. 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 23 

Reuben (laughing). Hello! What's this? Why, Jake, 
what have you been doin' — takin' a bath with your clothes 
on? 

Jake {spluttering). It's that Ted. I'll g-g-git even with 
her — yit. 

Tom. What have you bin doin' — quarrelin'? 

Jake. No, we wuzn't. I was jest tryin' to tell her how 
much I thought of her. 

Reuben {zvith a laugh). An' you found out what she 
thought of you, eh? {Exit Jake, muttering, into house L. 
Reuben goes to basin and zvashes. Tom leans against a 
post of the veranda.) 

Martha (eonies to door). Fur land sakes, do come in 
to supper. It's gettin' cold as a stone. Mr. Hayward's 
here an' I made him an' Lizzie set down. (Martha goes 
into the house. Tom turns away.) 

Reuben. Come, Tom. 

Tom (going through gate). I don't want no supper. 
(Esit Tom L.) 

Reuben looks after him, sighs and starts into the house, 
encounters Lizzie in the door, followed by Mark. 

'Lizzie. Why, Uncle, dear, how late you are. We have 
finished our supper. 

Mark. Good evening Mr. Hardacre. 

Reuben {who speaks rather coldly). Howdy {and goes 
into the house). 

Lizzie. We are going to sit out here where it is cool. 
(Lizzie goes to the well stoop. Mark follozvs.) 

Mark. Oh, Lizzie, my darling, it is such a relief to have 
you all to myself. 

Lizzie {smiling and speaking softly). And to think you 
have chosen me to be your wife — me above the rest. 

Mark {taking her in his arms). To think you are to be 
mine — all mine — and do you really love me, little girl? 

Lizzie. Oh, Mark, I never dreamed I could be so happy. 

Enter Tom L. back of gate, who comes tozvard the gate 
but halts and stands in the shadow a uwment. 



24 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Mark. My dearest one. (Takes her in his arms and 
kisses her. Tom turns back, unperceived by Mark and 
Lizzie.) I must go now as I have many duties calling me. 

Lizzie. Oh, must you go? Let me call Aunt Martha. 
She will wish to say goodbye. 

Mark. No, darling, I want your face to be the last one 
I see as I turn from the house. Goodbye, sweetheart. 
(They part at the gate.) 

Teddy [calling from within). Lizzie! (Lizzie gives her 
hand to Mark, then moves tozvard the house, stands on the 
porch, zvaves a kiss and goes into the house. Mark goes 
through the gate. Tom comes from the shadow and stands 
in his zvay.) 

Tom. Mr. Hay ward, I want a word with ye. 

Mark. Oh, it's you, Mr. Hardacre. You quite startled 
me at first. Is there anything wrong? 

Tom. There may be and there may'n't. It depends on 
yourself. 

Mark. I'm afraid your words are enigmatical, Mr. 
Hardacre. 

Tom. Long words ain't to my likin' nor my under- 
standin', sir. Mine are short and the meanin 'is clear. If 
your attentions are right and honest, well and good. If 
they ain't, you have a stronger arm than a girl's to deal 
with. Just remember my words; that's all. (Exit Tom 
into the house. Mark stands still a moment near the gate.) 

Mark (soliloquizing and looking after Tom zvith a 
.meer.) So you're in love with her, too. Well, she's mine, 
not yours, and never will be. 

Enter Arthur Ames zvith bicycle and with a sketching 
outfit under his arm. 

'Arthur (leaning bicycle against post of gate). Hello, 
there's an old well. I wonder if I can get both a drink and 
permission to sketch. (Starts, seeing Mark, zvho has 
turned tozvard him and looks at him again. Arthur comes 
through the gate.) By all the fiends, Mark Hayward, as 
I'm alive! What devils work are you up to now? 

Mark. You have the advantage of me, I'm afraid, sir. 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 25 

Arthur. Yes, in a great many ways. I try to be a man, 
while you are a scoundrel. 

Mark (clenching his fist). Sir, you shall answer for 
this. 

Arthur (zvith a shrug). I am not at all alarmed. But 
I haven't forgotten the summer I sketched around Wood- 
land and the pretty little girl with the blonde hair whose 
life you wrecked. God knows where the poor creature is 
now. There's a pretty woman here I'll be bound and I'll 
make it my business to see. 

Mark {changing his tone to a conciliatory one). When 
a man's trying to repair a wrong, to do what is right and 
live the best he can, would you push him down? 

Arthur. No, I wouldn't; but I don't trust you, 

Mark. Well, I am going away in a day or two and I 
ask you to let me go in peace. Say nothing to these good 
people. They have been very kind to me. 

Arthur (interrupting). Go tonight and I'll hold my 
tongue. 

Mark. Tonight ! 

Arthur. Yes, tonight. It's the only condition. 

Mark (hesitating a moment). I agree. Give me your 
word of honor. 

Arthur (proudly). My word, sir, is a word of honor. 
I need say no more. (Mark gires him a black Vook and 
walks through gate and exits, L.). Somehow I do not be- 
lieve in his reform. I'm quite sure there's a pretty girl 
around somewhere. Ah, here she comes. 

Teddy (comes tripping out of the house with a water 
pitcher, singing-.) 

The old oaken bucket, 
The iron bound bucket — 
(Stops, seeing Arthur.) 

Arthur (lifting his hat). Pardon me, may I have a 
drink of water. The old well looks inviting and — Hebe, 
may I say, very charming? 

Teddy (aside). Oh, isn't he handsome? (Aloud.) You 



26 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

may have a drink if you wish ; but my name isn't Hebe ; it's 
Emily, but everyone calls me Teddy — Lawrence. 

Athur (lifting his hat again). And mine is Arthur 
Ames. I have been sketching around the country and I 
saw your old well, which is a refreshing sight these days. 
Let me draw the water for you. (As Teddy starts toward 
tJie zvell. He lowers the bucket.) 

Teddy. Yes, Uncle Reuben has a windmill, but he says 
the water is sweeter from this old-fashioned well. 

Arthur (drazving up the bucket). He is right. Let me 
fill your pitcher. Allow me. (Offers her a dipper of zvater.) 
She drinks and starts to throzv azvay the zvater. Arthur 
hastily takes the dipper.) Don't throw it away, please. 
(Drinks.) I have never tasted water with so delicious a 
flavor. 

Teddy. If you are going to be in this neighborhood you 
may have all you like. 

Arthur. May I ? I am going to stay around here for 
months. 

Teddy. Where are you stopping? 

Arthur. Here — that is — I mean — of course I mean — I 
— have just arrived here, but I intend to stay quite a while. 
The — eh — the country is so charming. Your uncle wouldn't 
object, do you think, to my sketching this old well. 

Teddy. Oh, no. I'm sure he would be pleased to have 
you take an interest in the old well. Will it take you long? 

Arthur. A good many days, probably. You see I 
should like it from several points. 

Teddy. Here comes Uncle Reuben now. 

Reuben enters from the house. 

Teddy. Uncle, here is Mr. — Mr. — 

Arthur. Ames. 

Teddy. Mr. Ames, who wants to draw a picture of the 
old well. 

. Reuben (shaking hands). Howdy. Why, bless your 
heart, draw all the pictures you want, sir. I'd like one 
myself — with Ted there drawing up the water. 

Teddy. Oh, Uncle! 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 27 

Arthur. The very thing. Will you let me sketch you? 

Teddy {coyly). Maybe — sometimes. 

Reuben. I'll show you the old log cabin over there — 
our fust home. I'd like a picture of that, too. 

Arthur. Yes, do. 

Teddy {going to Reuben). Uncle, I'll take him to see 
the cabin if you want to smoke. It's right near the main 
road and he has to take that way back. I don't mind the 
walk and I expect 3 on're tired. 

Reuben {zvinking). Gettin' quite considerate, ain't 
you? Well, go ahead and I'll have a smoke. {Exit Teddy 
and Arthur, C. through gate. Twilight is gradually set- 
tling oz'er the farm and night is falling. Reuben, lighting 
his pipe.) Fly-away little piece Miss Teddy. S'pose she 
don't think I kin see through that sort of doin's. I'm afeerd 
she'll never make the woman that Lizzie is. 

Martha conies to the door of house, zviping her hands 
on a gingham apron. 

Martha. What air you doin', Reuben? 
Reuben. Takin' a little smoke. Where's Lizzie? 
Martha. She's just finished washin' dishes. 
Reuben. Ask her to come here a minute, will ye? 
Martha {exits into the house and after she is inside ]i£r 
voice is heard calling). Lizzie. 

Lizzie enters through the door of house. 

Lizzie. You want me. Uncle? 

Reuben. Yes, come here, lamb. {He sits on the zvell 
stoop and she comes and sits beside him and puts her head 
against his arm.) I don't suppose you ever will know what 
a store I've sot by you, Lizzie. 

Lizzie. Dear, dear Uncle. You've been so good to Teddy 
and me — as a father should be — and — and I want you to 
believe always that I love you with all my heart and am 
very, very grateful to you. 

Reuben {patting her zvith his big rough hand). Why, 
my sweet pet, don't you know that you've brought 
enough joy an' sunshine to us to fill a whole big hayloft — 



28 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

aye, an' twenty of 'em. An' Lizzie, dear little gal, ef you 
only understood what the wish of my life was — to see you 
Tom's wife. {He pauses, looking at her with a wistful, 
uncertain expression upon his face.) 

Lizzie (aside). Oh, if I could only tell him. (Aloud.) 
Let us not talk of that just yet, dear Uncle. Only promise 
me that you will believe always that I love you^ and am 
very, very grateful for your goodness to me. 

Reuben. Why, bless the child, of course I'll promise. 
(The old man takes the fresh young face hetzveen his 
hands and kisses the red lips.) 

Martha (calling from inside the house). Reuben! 
Reuben ! Come help me move this chist. 

Reuben. Martha's movin' somethin' again. (Rises and 
zvalks tozvard the house.) I wonder if a woman ever gits 
the things in a house moved around to her satisfaction? 
(Knocks his pipe on the post and go'cs in.) 

Lizzie. Dear, dear Uncle, how good he has been to me. 
If I only could do as he desires. But I can't. A new joy 
has come to me — a joy of which I never dreamed. Only 
God in heaven knows how happy I am. 

Mark comes up to the gate. 

Mark (in a lozv voice). Lizzie! 

Lizzie (zvith a start). Mark! {Runs to the gate with a 
glad little cry.) 

Mark (coming just inside the gate). Hush, 'Lizzie, my 
darling. (Takes her in his arms.) I have only a moment 
to be with you. Circumstances have arisen that make it 
necessary for me to go from here at once. 

Lizzie. Oh, no, no, no ! You must not leave me, Mark ! 

Mark. I am not going to leave you. I want you to come 
with me. 

Lizzie. When ? 

Mark. Tonight. 

Lizzie. Oh, I cannot go tonight. These dear people 
(pointing to the Jiouse). 

Mark. My darling, did you not say you would follow 
me to the end of the earth? Where are your promises now^ 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 29 

Lizzie. I will, I will, dear Mark! But I must tell them. 

Mark. |No, you cannot. You must go without a word. 

Lizzie. But why? 

Mark. I cannot tell you now. Do you not trust me? 

Lizzie. Yes, yes. But I cannot be so ungrateful. They 
have sheltered me — taken care of me. I cannot forget 
them. 

Mark. Choose between us. 

Lizzie. Oh, Mark, you make it so hard for me. 

Mark. If you remain here we part forever. If you go 
with me you must go tonight. 

Lizzie (stands hesitatingly a moment). Mark, I will 
go with you. 

Mark {taking her in his arms). My darling, meet me 
at the old log cabin at midnight. Say nothing to anyone. 
Until then farewell. (Kisses her and turns away. She 
stands a moment and looks after him, then turns to the 
well stoop and sits dotvn.) 

Lizzie. Oh, Uncle, forgive me. (Covers her face with 
her hands.) 

Curtain. 



Act II. 



Scene: Interior of the Hardacre farm house. Early morn- 
ing. Door R. and L. leading outside. Cook stove at L.zvith 
hooks hack of same for holding pans. Window at C. zvith 
white curtains, calico valence at top. Bench with wash 
basin, roller tozvel above, at L. of zvindozv, with ruffled cal- 
ico cover. Table at R. of stage. Cupboard containing china 
near table. Five straight-backed wooden chairs around 
table. A large rocker or 4wo with crocheted tidies on the 
backs, at L. Rag carpet or rug on the floor. One or tzvo 
cheap pictures on the zvalls. Shelf on the wall, decorated 
with a fringed lambrequin and a pair of painted glass 
vases and a clock (optional). Hooks for coats, etc. Small 
mirror on the wall. If not convenient to have a stove on 



30 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

the stage, have it appear to he off L. or behind a screen at 
the L. side of stage. 

Enter Jake, R., yawning at every step. 
Enter Arthur from L. zvith sketching outfit. 

Jake {looking at him in astonishment). Say, did you 
stay up all night? 

Arthur {laughing and seating himself in a rocker). 
Oh, no. I wanted to make some sketches- of .-the old log 
house early in the morning. Mr. Hardacr^ very kindly 
invited me to remain here last night, so I did not want to 
miss the opportunity. 

Jake {sitting doivn and pulling on hoots as he talks). 
Well, I dunno, but it seems to me anybody that gets up 
early what don't have to is a kind of a tarnal fool. 

Arthur {howing). You are very complimentary. So 
you do not believe in hunting for the early worm? 

Jake {yawning) . No, I leave that to the chickens. You 
kin bet I wouldn't git up if I didn't have to. 

Arthur. Why, this is the most beautiful time of the 
day. The air is so sweet and pure, the grass sparkles with 
dew and the birds sing their very sweetest Carols in the 
morning, and did you ever hear the old song {sings) : 
The birds were singing in every tree 
At five o'clock in the morning. 

Jake. I don't have no time to hear the birds singin'. I 
have to help milk the cows and do the chores. Say, how 
do you make them picters {pointing to his folio) — with a 
cameo? {Gets up and zvalks toward Arthur zvith diffi- 
culty, as his hoots are too tight.) 

Arthur {looking mystified). Cameo? Oh, you mean a 
camera. No, I sketch them with a pencil. {Opens folio 
and hands pictures to Jake.) 

Jake. Well, I vum ; there's the old cabin just as nateral. 
{Taking another.) And there's the old well. {A picture 
falls to the floor and Jake picks it up, looks at it, then 
looks at Arthur, then at the picture again.) Well, I'll 
be darned if that don't look just like Ted. When did she 
get that took? 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 31 

Arthur (catching it hastily, rises and crosses to table). 
That's a little fancy sketch I made this morning of no- 
body in particular. (Sits down near table.) 

Jake {laying Jiis finger on one side of Jiis nose). Maybe 
I ain't sich a fool as I look. Say, stranger, if you're stayin' 
round here fur any reason except to make picters, 'twon't 
do you no good. All you'll git is a bucket of water for 
your pains. (Goes to stove and starts to build the fire, 
putting paper and kindling into the stove.) 

Enter Martha, R. 

Martha. Sakes alive, Jake, ain't you made that fire 
yit? Excuse me sir. (Coming to Arthur.) But Jake's 
so everlastin' lazy. 

Jake (putting zvood into the stove). Lazy! I'm working 
from mornin' till night. (Strikes a match and lights pa- 
per and then sJiuffles slozvly out, L. Martha puts on the 
frying pan and begins to get breakfast.) 

Martha. I believe Jake is about the laziest critter I 
ever see. Now Tom and Reuben's been up over an hour 
milkin' an' putterin' round. You're up pretty early for a 
city man, ain't you? (Breaks egg into pan, uses salt, pep- 
per, etc., and puts on the coffe(^ pot as she talks.) 

Arthur (looks over 'his sketches as Martha talks). 
Oh, I'm an early riser, especially when in the country. 
Why, those who lie in bed so late in the morning do not 
know how much of Nature's beauty they miss. 

Martha. Bless your heart, I don't have time to think 
of the beauty of Nater. I'm busy. We spoil the girls, too, 
I'm afeard. But Lizzie has her school, so I don't call her 
till most breakfast time, and Teddy's another one of your 
lazy ones. (Crosses to table and puts on red tablecloth 
zvhich she takes from cupboard.) Hates to get up worse 
than anything you ever see. 

Arthur (in astonishment). Hates to get up! Why, I 
thought she delighted in early rising? 

Teddy opens the door L. from outside and enters with 
her arms full of flowers. 



32 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Martha. For the land sakes, Teddy child, where did 
you come from? 

Teddy. From the meadow. Fve been gathering flowers 
for the breakfast table. {Runs to get vase from shelf and 
fills it zvith flowers.) 

Martha. Well, how on earth did you happen to get up 
so early? 

Teddy. Get up so early? Why, this is the loveliest time 
of the day. 

Martha. Humph! It's queer you've been so long dis- 
kiverin' it. I'll let you set the table while I go on with 
the breakfast. (Goes to the stove. Teddy removes the 
plain zvhite china Martha has placed about, takes off the 
red table cloth and puts on a white one, then gets the best 
blue china out of the cupboard. Arthur assists her.) 

Reuben and Tom enter L. 

Reuben {to Tom). I think I'll set Jake to cultivatin' in 
the west field today. The rain lately has made them weeds 
take a new stapt. {Takes off his hat and hangs it on a 
nail. Tom walks over to the basin on a stand and washes 
his hands and combs his hair. Reuben starts after him 
but stops, seeing Teddy.) Well, bless my soul, what are 
you doin' up, flutter-budget? 

Teddy. I'm setting the table. 

Reuben. So I see. But what got you out of bed this 
time of the morning? 

Teddy (pouting). You talk as though I were the laziest 
mortal alive. I'm not Jake. 

Arthur (coming to the rescue). I am sure Miss Law- 
rence is not lazy. I am afraid you are rather disposed 
to be hard upon her. 

Reuben (chucking her under the chin). Miss Lawrence. 
How's that, Ted. Makes you feel important, eh? We'll 
have you struttin' round like that little white bantay out 
there. But we ain't hard on her, sir. Lord bless you, she's 
like a bit of sunshine. We wouldn't know how to live 
without her and Lizzie. (Martha comes to the table with 
a dish which she almost drops.) 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 33 

Martha. Land sakes alive! What's got into the girl? 
Why, she's put on our best blue chiny set fur breakfast! 

Reuben. That's so. Must be something special. (Nudges 
Martha, points to Arthur and chuckles and zvinks.) 

Arthur (picking iip one of the plates). It is a very 
])eautiful old china — willow ware, isn't it? (Turns it over 
and looks at the mark.) Yes, I'm sure it must be an heir- 
loom, Mrs. Hardacre. If it were possible to improve them, 
your biscuits and other good things will taste better than 
ever off of these pretty dishes. 

Tom (patting his mother on the back). There, now, 
mother; that ought to satisfy you. By the way, father, 
I'll take Lizzie over to school this morning. I've got to 
drive to town. 

Enter Jake, L., zvith an armful of wood zuhich he throws 
into the box with a bang. 

Martha (bringing the coffee pot). Come on, now; set 
down ; breakfast's ready. 

(Reuben drazvs a chair to the table, the others get chairs 
and sit dozen to breakfast. The table scene is prolonged 
some seconds. Reuben faces audience, Arthur to his 
right, Teddy next to Arthur and Martha ne.vt. Tom 
sits to the left of his father and Jake next to Tom in full 
i'iezv of the audience. Jake plies his knife vigorously, 
drinks coffee out of a saucer, zvipes up plate zvith a piece 
of bread, etc. During this business Martha. /ia>y gone to 
the stove twice for biscuits, etc., but all arc seated and quiet 
before Reuben's' follozving speech. Snatches of laughter 
and conversation are heard, such as, "Did you put thent 
hogs in the pen, Jake?" ''Have some coffee," "Give me one 
of them biscuits," etc.) 

Reuben (aloud). By the way, where is 'Lizzie. She's 
late this morning. 

Martha (goes to door R. and calls). Lizzie! Lizzie! 

Teddy (rising from the table). I didn't go into her room 
this morning as I didn't want to disturb her, but I'll run 
upstairs and call her now. (Teddy exits R.) 

Reuben (reaching zvith his fork for a potato). Ain't it 



34 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

queer how there's ahvays room fur one more at your table 
but never room fur one less? Now you know, Mr. Ames, 
this here table seems kinder empty without Lizzie. (A cry 
is heard from R. off stage. All start, half rising in their 
seats. Teddy comes running in with a letter in her hand.) 

Teddy {with a zvild frightened look). Oh, Uncle Reu- 
ben, something has happened. Lizzie is not in her room 
and her bed has not been slept in. Oh, I don't know what 
to make of it! 

Martha (takes the letter from Teddy^s hands zvith 
trembling fingers. Reading). It's addressed to you, Reu- 
ben — take it. I'm all of a tremble. (Reuben takes the 
letter and opens it slozvly like one dazed. Looks at it a 
moment and then hands it to Tom.) 

Reuben. You'd better read it, Tom. I can't. Somehow 
my old eyes are blurred. {t)rops into seat.) 

Tom (shakes his head and leans his elbozu on the table, 
covering his face zvith his hand). I can't read it. I haven't 
"got the courage, father. (Tom hands the letter to Teddy.) 

Teddy (reading the letter). "Oh, I pray you to forgive 
me. I know how wicked and ungrateful I must seem to 
you — all of you dear ones — but I cannot thrust aside my 
life's happiness. I am not fitted to be the wife of a farmer. 
I am too dreamy and unpractical and restless. Tom will 
find someone who will make him a better wife than I and 
he will soon forget me. (Tom rises and zcalks to zvindozv 
and rests Jiis head against his arm, standing zvith his back 
to the audience. Teddy reading.) Do not believe any harm 
of Mark. I love him with all my soul. We are to be mar- 
ried at once." 

Reuben. Stop, Teddy. Lizzie — Lizzie's gone — run 
away. Yes — yes — go on, Teddy. 

Teddy (reading). *'I cannot understand why I have been 
chosen to this great joy — I, a simple country girl. I am 
going to travel about with Mark and am to help him in his 
work. And oh, I pray God I may prove to be to him a 
true helpmeet. Sometime we may come to you again. But 
oh, I want you to believe always that I love you all and 
t\ wk you many times for the kindness and love you gave 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 35 

to the helpless girls entrusted to your care. Give my dear- 
est love to darling Ted and ask her to forgive me for; 
leaving her. God bless and keep you each and everyone." 
(Teddy, crying and falling into her chair.) Oh, Lizzie — 
Lizzie, my sister — how could you leave me? (Martha 
takes her in her arms. A knock at the door is heard. All 
start.) 

Enter Sapphira, L., with a pan in her hand. 

Sapphira. Good mornin', everybody. I'm a little early 
callin', but I come to borrow a little flour an' some raisins 
and dried currants and cinnamon. I have to make a cake 
and I didn't want to drive to town. Yes, and the preservin' 
kittle. What on airth's the matter with everybody? 

Martha (takes up her apron and begins to cry afresh). 
I suppose you'll know sooner or later. Lizzie's run away. 

Sapphira. Runaway! Land sakes ! With the bookman? 
I just 'spected that would happen. Well, I s'pose we must 
say, ''He doeth all things well, Marthy." (Pulls chair from 
the table and sits dozvn facing audience.) Of course, I 
'low it looks sorter queer — runnin 'away like there was 
suthin' to hide that folks was ashamed on, but then there's 
no accountin' fur tastes, an' I shudder to think but fur 
my strength of character I might have been drawed away 
instid of Lizzie. Wonderful is the ways of Providence! 
Makes me think, Marthy, of the time my cousin Betsey 
Ann run away with the postmaster. A terrible thunder- 
storm came up as they was ridin 'along an' struck the rig, 
knocking the postmaster clean to the ground. Well, they 
druv along to town and when they got to the minister's 
an' Betsey Ann see her lover in the light, she shrieked out 
she wouldn't marry no man with blue streaks on his face, 
an' sure 'nuff the postmaster had zigzag streaks runnin' 
up an' down his face fur all the world like forked lightnin'. 
An' Betsey Ann come back home an' ain't never married 
to this day. But goin' back to Lizzie. Jest cheer up. 
Lizzie's a good girl — I hope. A little flighty, but there 
wasn't really no harm about her. I hope she's done well, 
I'm sure. (With a sigh which implies Sapphira has her 



36 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

doubts. Rising and stepping tozvard the table.) Air you 
.quite sure he'll marry her? 

Teddy (zvith flashing eyes and a stamp of her foot). 
How dare yoii intimate anything against my sister? 

Reuben {rising, strikes the table with his fist). Sap- 
phira Scriggins, I've been a God-fearing man. I don't owe 
no man a cent and as fur as I know I ain't never abused 
nobody and there ain't nobody goin 'to say a word agin 
me or mine without gittin' acquainted with the way 
through the front door and that mighty darn quick. {Starts 
tozvard the door and Tom puts hand on him to detain 
him.) 

Sapphira {hastily, and rising as Reuben talks). Now, 
Reuben, Reuben, don't you git so wrathy. You know I 
wouldn't say nothin' agin none of your folks for the world. 
By the way, Marthy, could you git me them raisins and 
currants and the flour and preservin kittle? (Martha goes 
to cupboard, gets the articles. Sapphira follozvs.) 

Reuben. Tom, I ain't had many dreams in my life, but 
this was one to see you an' Lizzie married with your 
children runnin' about the old place; but I guess it wasn't 
to be. 

Tom. Don't, father. 'Tain't no use talkin' about that 
now. I told you once Lizzie had a right to choose between 
us. She's happier than she's ever been here with us, she 
says, and there ain't nuthin' fur me to do but forget. 
{Pauses a moment.) But father (picks up his hat), I'm 
going to find Mark Hay ward. If he's fooled her he'll 
answer for it with his life. (Tom goes and shuts the door. 
Teddy sobs on Martha's breast.) 

Sapphira {sighs deeply and zvipes her eyes.) I am sorry 
I happened in on ye this mornin'. Thanks fur the things. 
Marthy. I say agin, I hope everything will be all right. 
Poor, weak women. W'e're all in danger. Goodbye. 
{Exits L. as curtain falls.) 

Curtain. 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 37 



Act III. 

Scene: Same as Act II. A winter evening nearly two 
years later. Teddy seated at table sewing. A pitcher of 
zvater, glasses and a dish of apples and lamp are on the 
table. Jake sits up to the table with his paper. 

Jake (reading in a loud tone from paper). ''Laketown is 
to have a new depot and two new stores. Who says we 
are not becoming met-ro-pol-i-tan ? Hurrah for Laketown!" 
Gee whiz, that's a long word. Guess I'll have to go to see 
them stores. {Reading in a loud tone.) "Mrs. Silas Bron- 
son presented Mr. Silas Bronson with a fine ten-pound 
boy last Monday and every woman in town stopped wash- 
ing to talk it over." (He speaks.) Now, that Bronson will 
be so sot up you can't tech him with a forty-foot pole. He 
ain't so much, either. (Reading in a loud tone.) "Miry 
Jones was in town last week and bought a new spring hat 
and some pink lawn for a dress. Look out for Cupid's 
darts, boys, when Miry gets on that combination." (He 
speaks.) Miry ain't a bad looking gal, either. (Reading 
in a loud tone.) "A-pro-pos of the growth of Laketown, 
Ezry Babb has had to get an assistant at the post office. 
Too bad, Ezry. You won't have time to read the postal 
cards. Lest this insinuation be sufficient cause for libel, 
the editor wishes distinctly to label this as a joke." (Jake 
scratching his head.) I don't see no sense in that. Ezry 
alius reads the postal cards, bekase I've read 'em myself 
when I've been settin' there with him. (He lays down the 
paper.) I never see a gal so changed as you be, Ted. 
Don't take no interest in anything no more. ' Alius quiet 
— readin' or sewin'. You don't even ride hossback like you 
used to, flyin' like the wind. You just set straight and go 
along sober-like as a preacher. (Teddy drops her head 
down upon the table and begins to cry softly. Jake in as- 
tonishment) Did I hurt your feelings? (Gets up clumsily 
and goes round back of her chair.) You know I 
wouldn't do that fur nothin' in the world — I vum I like 
you, Ted. (Reaches out for zvater pitcher carefully and 



38 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

puts it out of Teddy's reach on the farther side of the 
table as he talks.) Better'n any gal I ever see. If we could 
git hooked up you wouldn't feel so kind of lonesome like. 
(Teddy neither replies nor raises her head.) It can't be 
you like nobody better'n me, Ted, 'cause you never let 
none of the other fellows come to see you, an' I ain't a 
bad lookin' feller when I'm dressed up. Here's a item I 
didn't like to read to you, Ted, because it sounded kind of 
proud like to me. But I will now. {Sits dozvn again and 
reads from paper.) *'Jake Tompkins was in town Sunday 
in a new suit of store clothes, a boiled shirt and a new 
derby hat. Jake must be in love." (He grins and chuckles. 
Reading on again.) ''Well, go it, Jake. We wish you luck. 
There isn't a better looking chap in town than you are 
when you are in full reg-reg-regalia." (He speaks.) Fm 
darned if I know what that means. (Teddy does not lift 
her Jicad.) Of course I know I wouldn't stand no show 
if that artist feller had stayed around here, but he ain't 
never been back since Uncle Reuben told him he'd better 
go. 

Teddy (lifts her head). Don't, please don't say any 
more, Jake. I can't bear it. (Rises and walks about the 
room.) 

Jake. Why, Ted, you ain't meanin 'to say you keer fur 
that feller. Why, you ain't seen him fur purty nigh two 
years. Well, I vum, gals is queer critters. You ain't seen 
him more'n two or three times in your life and you've 
summered and wintered with me fur over four years, and 
you keer more fur him than fur me. I'll go and propose 
to Miry Jones the fust time I see her. 

Teddy. Yes, yes ; go propose to Miry Jones. I'm sure 
she'll be pleased. (Goes to the zvindozu and looks out. 
The zvind blozi's and the snow flies past the zuindozv.) My 
how it storms. 

Jake. Oh, she'll be tickled to death. Miry sets a store 
by me, but I thought I'd give you the fust chance. 

Teddy (still at the zvindozv). Put some more wood in the 
stove, Jake. Uncle Reuben and Tom will be wet and cold 
when they get back from town. 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 39 

Jake (rising). Well, you've lost your chanct, Ted, 'cause 
I ain't never goin' to say no more to you 'bout hook'in up 
to me. 

Teddy (turning from the zvindozv zvearily). Thank you 
so much, Jake. (Goes to chair near the table and sits dozvn, 
resting her elbozvs on the table and her head on her hand. 
Jake shuffles to zvood box.) 

Jake. That tarnal box is empty again. I never can keep 
it full. (Gets cap and comforter from hook near the door, 
puts hand on the knob and turns tozjuard Teddy.) You 
don't want to take a little time to think about it, Ted, do 
you? (Teddy shakes her head Jake puts on cap and 
zvinds comforter about his neck as he talks.) Well, I hate 
to see you losing a good thing, Ted. (Heaves a deep sigh 
and goes out L., closing the door after him.) 

Teddy (zvith a sigh). Poor fellow. I suppose he does 
think I'm rather hard-hearted; but I'm not — only heavy- 
hearted, that's all — and oh, so lonely — since Lizzie went 
away. Oh, Lizzie, my sister! Why haven't 3^ou written to 
us ? Where are you ? What are you doing ? Are you happy ? 
And Tom — poor Tom. How changed he is. He was gone 
just one week, and when he came back he could say noth- 
ing except that she was married and happy. He has never 
mentioned her name since then. But she might have given 
me — her only sister — a little thought. Ah, me! Everything 
is so different now. The old place seems like a tomb. But 
what am I doing? (Gets up and zvalks about the room.) 
Making myself miserable, not only over Lizzie, but over 
a man who does not even care for me. I'm not as philo- 
sophical as Jake — I can't be satisfied with somebody else. 
(A step is heard outside.) There's Jake now with the 
wood. (She sits dozvn at the table again.) 

The door opens and Arthur comes in zi'earing a heavy 
ulster zvith the collar turned up. Shakes the snozu from 
his coat. 

Arthur. Teddy — Miss Lawrence. (She springs from 
her chair.) 



40 THE OLD OAKEX BUCKET. 

Teddy. Mr. Ames, where did you come from? W'hat are 
you doing here? 

Arthur. Where did I come from? Across the water 
from the other side of the world. And what am I doing 
here? I came for a sight of the old well with the girl 
standing by it with the sunlight in her hair. I did not even 
knock. Somehow I felt 3'OU were here just as I had left you. 

Teddy [hmightily). Indeed. Haven't you an odd way 
of doing things, Mr. Ames? The old well is outside if you 
care to look at it. I can't go out and stand by it now, even 
to please you. It is a little too stormy. 

Arthur {coming to her and taking hold, of her hands). 
Ah, Teddy — Ted, dearest, you know — you must know what 
I mean. I love you better than anything in all the wide 
world. 

Teddy (half drawing azvay). You love me? Why, you 
have never told me. You have never even written. 

Arthur. I know, but let me explain. You know I came 
several times to the house when I was here two years ago, 
and your uncle told me I must not come again. He 
wouldn't have any more trouble, he said. I could not ofifer 
myself to you then — I, a poor, struggling artist, and so I 
went away. I did not write because I could not write 
without telling you my love, and I had not even a home 
to ofifer you. So I went abroad and struggled and worked 
for months without recognition. Then I painted a picture 
of a girl standing by an old well — a girl with eyes like twin 
stars and hair like spun gold. I called it "The Old Oaken 
Bucket." I sent it to the exhibition with fear and trem- 
bling. It was accepted and hung and my future was as- 
sured. Why, Teddy, my darling. -(He takes her in his 
arms.) You haven't been from my thoughts a moment. 
But, Teddy dearest, I haven't asked you if you loved me — 
if you would be my wife. 

Teddy (drazving away a moment, then turns toward 
him). Love you! Oh, Arthur, how can I help it? (Reaches 
out her hands to him and he catches them in Jiis and kisses 
her.) 

Martha enters from R. zvith lamp in one hand and a 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 41 

stocking, partly finished zvith knitting needles thrust 
through it in the other. Teddy and Arthur have retired 
to a corner. 

Martha. It does beat all where that ball of gray yarn 
is. I've searched the hull blamed place for it. I really 
don't believe I've got good common sense sometimes. I 
am always hiding things from myself — tuckin' them away 
in the most outlandish places. {Walks to the table and sets 
dozvn lamp without discovering the couple zvho. are so 
wrapped up in each other they do not notice her. She sud- 
denly discovers them and drops her knitting zvith a gasp.) 
Teddy Lawrence, what on airth are you a-doin'? 

Teddy {gives a start, then runs to her). Oh, Aunt 
Martha, I'm so happy! This is Arthur — Mr. Ames. {He 
comes forzvard and reaches out his hand, but she adjusts 
her spectacles and looks at him severely.) 

Martha. And who might you be, young man? 

Arthur. Don't you remember me, Mrs. Hardacre? I 
have never forgotten you nor your delicious cakes and 
biscuits. 

Martha. Well, of all things! {Shaking his hand vigor- 
ously.) How did you git here? 

Arthur. I got a hitch, as the boys say. Found a man 
with a sleigh coming this way and he kindly took me in as 
far as the -corner. 

Martha. Well, I ain't got it straightened out yit how 
you and Teddy come to git in such familiar attitudes as I 
see just now. 

Arthur. Why, I came to ask her to be my wife and 
she has consented. 

Martha. Humph! I should think so. Must have jumped 
at the chance. Gals didn't act that way when I was young. 
I never even kissed Reuben till after I was married. Well, 
times is changed. {''Whoa!" is heard from outside and 
the sound of sleigh bells.) Here comes Reuben and Tom. 
Where's Jake? 

Teddy. Oh, he went for wood. I don't know what keeps 
him. But then we really haven't missed him. (Teddy and 
Arthur retire to a corner.) 



42 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Enter Reuben from L., zvho comes stamping into the 
kitchen with his heavy rubber boots, unwinding a red 
woolen scarf from his neck. 

Reuben. Mother Gary's chickens has growed the size of 
hen's eggs by the looks of the feathers, Marthy. It's still 
snowin' an' 'pears like it don't know when to quit. 

Martha {putting a stick of wood into the- stove) . Well, 
don't bring no more of them feathers in on my clean 
kitchen floor than ye can help. 

Reuben {sitting down and drazving off Jiis boots). Big- 
gest fall of snow I've see in years. Reminds me of the 
snowfall Sapphiry tells about when she was a gal (got a 
good memory, that woman), when her folks was snowed 
up from Christmas time to Spring time' an' she was so 
scared that she laid in a trance all that time an' only woke 
up when the robins begun to sing. {Takes Jiis chair and 
goes to stove and puts his feet into the oven, lights his 
pipe.) 

Martha {sitting down near him). That woman do 
beat everything I ever see. Speakin' of robins makes me 
think of what she told me last Sunday after meetin'. 
You'd think she'd respect the house of God anyway, but 
seems like she can't help lyin' nohow when the idee strikes 
her. She said her red bird had been kind of droopin' 
lately. She noticed that it was gittin' thinner an' thinner 
but redder an' redder^ every day, an' at last she found it 
was completely kivered with little red ants that was eatin' 
it up alive. She poured bilin' water on the ants and killed 
'em. Miss Harper asked her why the bilin' water didn't 
kill the bird, but you bet Sahpphiry'd have an answer 
ready. You can't phase her noway. She said it was be- 
cause the bird come from a hot climate an' could stan' 
lots of heat. 

Reuben. V/here's Ted? 

Teddy (comes forward timidly. Arthur steps forward.) 
Uncle Reuben, you remember Mr. Ames. 

Reuben {turns and looks at him in slow surprise). Why, 
yes. Howdy. I believe I asked you once not to come here 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 43 

any more. We've had enough of you book-larned city fel- 
lers. We can git along well enough without ye. 

Martha. Why, Reuben, I'm ashamed on ye. Can't ye 
keep a civil tongue in your head? 

Arthur. Mr. Hardacre, I've come many miles to ask 
this little girl to be my wife. Now I only want your con- 
sent and Aunt Martha's, for she's given me hers. 

Reuben. Well, you must have wanted it to come through 
the storm to git her, so I'll see. Look here, Ted. (Reuben 
rises.) You want to leave your old uncle, do you? 

Teddy (putting her arms around his neck and beginning 
to cry). Oh, Uncle! 

Reuben. Don't cry. That's what it amounts to. Well, 
I ain't nothing to say. If you want her, young man, and 
mean to be honest by her, and she wants you, I suppose 
you'll have to have each other. It's the way of the world. 
Heigho ! {Sits doztm again near the stove. Teddy and 
Arthur go to hack of stage.) 

Enter from L. Tom, and Jake, who has an armfid of 
wood. Jake throzvs wood in the zvood box and puts a stick 
or two in the stove. Tom stamps his feet and unwinds his 
comforter. 

Martha {going to him solicitously) Air ye wet, Tom? 
{Feels his coat.) 

Tom. Not much, mother. It is storming hard, though. 

Martha. You remember Mr. Ames, Tom? 

Tom {looks surprise). Why, yes. Sort of a stranger, 
ain't you? 

Arthur {shaking his hand). Somewhat. 

Martha. Well, it don't look like it the way Teddy acts. 
Land sakes, child, you won't make much of a wife. Why, 
Mr. Ames has been here all this time and ain't took off his 
wet ulster. He'll git the ammonia and maybe die before 
you git him. Will you have a cup of tea or suthin' to warm 
you up. ? 

Arthur. No, I thank you. (Teddy helps him to re- 
move his ulster and they return to the corner, Martha 
sits dn7jun at the table and knits.) 



44 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Tom. Where's the paper? (Jake hands it to him, gets 
an apple from the table and then sits down in the rear of 
the room, L., munching it, looking glum, watching Teddy 
and Arthur. Reuben sits toasting his feet at the stove 
and smoking his pipe and Tom draws chair to the table 
and reads the paper.) 

Reuben. Ain't you done them socks yit, Marthy? 
(Martha tzviches her mouth in unison zvith her knitting 
and does not reply. Reuben, laughing.) There you go 
agin, Marthy, workin' your mouth when you knit. You 
know I alius told you a woman couldn't keep her jaw still 
even when she wasn't talkin'. 

Martha. You be still, Reuben Hardacre. {The wind 
ivhistles and hozvls outside. There is silence a moment.) 

Reuben. Heigho! Do you know (taking his pipe from 
his mouth and with a tremulous note in Jiis voice), perhaps 
it's because we're all safe an' warm an' under shelter that 
a. night like this alius makes me think of the little gal. 

Martha. Oh, Reuben, what made you say that, as 
though you thought she was cold and hungry or suthin'. 
(Martha drops her knitting and taking off her glasses 
wipes away the moisture that comes quickly to her eyes. 
Tom looks up, the frown deepens in his forehead and the 
paper shakes beneath his hand.) 

Reuben. Well, I dunno what made me say it. Maybe 
she's warm an' happy an' maybe she ain't — that's the 
stickler. We ain't heerd fur a long time. Seems a little 
ongrateful, but I don't want to blame the lass. God knows 
I hope she's all right an' happy. I can't help hopin' she 
ain't quite forgot old Uncle an' the home she had for so 
many years. I want to say nothin 'agin the man she chose. 
He was eddicated an' that ketched her, an' I suppose she 
thought he was better than the rest of us. But somehow. 
(Pauses.) She told you she was happy, didn't she, Tom? 
(Tom gets up and zvalks about restlessly.) 

Tom. For God's sake, father, don't let's talk about it. You 
know the story. I've told it often enough that I found her 
a week after she ran away and that she said she was happy 
and married. That was all I wanted to find out. I didn't 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET: 45 

see him. She begged me to go away and not follow her. 
It wan't my affair then. 

Reuben. Forgive me, Tom. I didn't mean to say nothin', 
but somehow I can't git it out of my head — {a sound is 
heard outside) — hark! What's that? 

Martha. I heard somethin'. 

There is a step on the porch. The step is follozved by a 
knock. Tom opens the door. Enter Lizzie, L., bedraggled, 
pale, thin, just a semblance of her former self, in a black 
gown with a long black cape and hood. 

Tom (brokenly, with an amazed exclamation). Lizzie! 
{Drops back a step.) 

Lizzie. Yes — it's Lizzie. {The ghost of a bitter smile 
plays about her lips.) Sick and tired and hungry and for- 
saken, come home just as they do in the stories, through 
the cold and snow, asking to be forgiven. Isn't it entertain- 
ing — for all the world like a chapter in a book? Maybe 
you'll drive her away. {Stands hesitatingly, then the bitter 
tone changes and she puts out her arms.) O, let me stay, 
I beg you — don't turn me away! {Drops to the floor in a 
faint. Tom catches her. All spring up. Teddy brings a 
glass of water and Lizzie recovers in a minute. Drinks 
the. water. Martha and Reuben drazv an arm chair near 
the store and Lizzie sits down.) 

Martha. Turn you away, lamb — as if we would. 

Lizzie, And you are all here just as I left you — quiet, 
peaceful, happy, while I — oh, my God, I have been through 
so much — so much ! 

Martha. There, there lamb ; don't talk now. Wait till 
mornin', when you'll be more rested and more quiet like. 
(Teddy kneels by Lizzie^s chair. Martha leans over her. 
Tom drops into a seat near the table and rests his head 
upon his hands.) 

Lizzie {excitedly). Yes, yes, let me talk. I cannot rest 
until I have told you all. For days I have wandered through 
the cold and wet and snow, and if I cannot talk now I 
shall go mad. I must tell you what has come into my life, 
you dear faithful ones, from whom I ran away. But, oh. 



46 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

I did not mean to be ungrateful: I was so much in love 
with — {gives a short, hitter laugh.) I was going to say my 
husband. 

Tom {rising and holding out his arms). Lizzie, you 
were married! 

Lizzie (bitterly). I thought so — and then — 

Martha (soothingly). Don't talk now, dear. 

'Lizzie. Yes, I must talk — it's my salvation. I've kept 
it so long. Oh, Tom, don't look at me so! (Tom drops 
into seat.) I was afraid to come back — ^bitterly ashamed 
to have you know that I had been deceived and afraid to 
have you meet Mark for fear you would kill him. 

Teddy (throzvs her arms about her neck). Lizzie, Lizzie 
darling, don't talk so. You know we all love you dearly. 

Lizzie (pushing her away). I have been so ungrateful. 
Let me tell you — tell you all. It was that old story of a 
mock marriage, and so we lived along, going from town 
to town, he selling his books and I helping him. Then there 
came a day when he was no longer the same to me, when I 
felt that he had grown cold and indifferent. Then he told 
me of his deceit, that he had another wife — a wicked 
woman, he said, whom he could not love. In my agony 
I went down on my knees, for I loved him still, and prayed 
him to get a divorce and make me his lawful wife. (She 
pauses a moment, then gives a sort of groan.) Then I 
found out his real nature — knew that he no longer cared 
for me. He laughed me to scorn, told me there was no 
wife, but that he could never marry me. We quarreled. I 
went mad with rage and said wild, bitter, wicked things. 
Then — oh, I must tell you, you good, gentle people, who 
always treated me so tenderly, who never struck me a blow 
even in my days of childhood — he, my protector, raised his 
hand and gave me a blow that left its mark for days. 
(Tom's clenched fist goes up in the air.) 

Tom. I told him once that if he didn't mean right by 
you he had more than a helpless girl to deal with, an' if 
I live an' he lives, I'll give him blow for blow an' plenty 
more for good measure. 

Lizzie (clasping her hands together nervously). Oh, 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 47 

Tom, dear Tom, I knew you would protect me. Hunt him 
out like a dog, make him suffer as I have suffered, for 
the anguish of heart I have endured and the cold and hun- 
ger since I ran away, riding on trains while my money 
lasted and then walking on miles and miles, it seemed to 
me, begging for food and shelter at farm houses and try- 
ing to avoid answering questions lest I disgrace you all. 
Oh, Tom, Tom! {She rises partly from her chair, zvith 
a zvild look in her eyes.) Hunt him down, give him blow 
for blow and agony for agony. Do you want to know the 
rest. I ran away — lived as best I could — working out by 
the day, earning barely enough to keep me alive. I grew 
so lonely and heartsick I said I'll go back and face it all. 
They will turn me away, perhaps, but at least I can see 
them all. (SJie rises and starts azvay.) And now I'll go. 
I had no right to come. 

Reuben (catches her in his arms.) Go, my lamb? You'll 
never leave us again. 

Lizzie (sobbing). Oh, I shouldn't stay! 

Martha (crying). Don't say that. \\'e're all miserable 
sinners, and massy knows you've suft'ered. 

Lizzie. Oh, I can't believe you'll forgive me — all you 
dear ones. Oh, Tom, Tom, I didn't mean what I said just 
now. You are so strong and good and kind. Don't fol- 
low him. Don't hunt him down. God knows I have been 
the cause of enough misery to you all. What is it. Uncle 
Reuben, that the Bible says of vengeance? 

Reuben. Vengeance is mine. I will repay saith the 
Lord. 

Lizzie. Yes, yes. ''Vengeance is mine." That's it, Tom. 
Leave it to Him, Tom. (Her tone becomes very pleading.) 
Oh, do you mean — tell me again that I may stay with you, 
that you will not turn me out. I will work my fingers to 
the bone for you. 

Reuben (taking her in his arms). Not a word more, 
Lizzie. We don't want to hear nothin'. Why, you ain't 
been away — not for a minute. Do ye all understand? 
Lizzie ain't been away at all. 



48 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Lizzie. God bless you all for your sweet forgiveness. 

Jake {coming to the front of stage). No, she ain't been 
away, and if anybody says she has I'll kick him where the 
old white mule kicked me last week. I will, by gosh! 

Curtain. 



Act IV. 

Scene: Same as Act III. One week later. 

Reuben zvrestling zvith a clean collar, standing in his 
shirt sleeves in front of the small mirror on the wall; his 
coat is on the back of a chair. Martha in stiff, old-fash- 
ioned black silk gozvn zvith a white apron over her dress, 
goes about giving final touches to the room. 

Reuben (working at his collar). Darn this collar! 

Martha (in horror). Why, Reuben Hardacre, you a 
takin' the Lord's name in vain, and it's just the same as 
Sunday — Ted's wedding day. 

Reuben (turning from the mirror). I'm glad I don't 
have to wear these darn things more'n once a week and 
sometimes not that often. 

Enter Teddy, R., with a zvhite cashmere (silk or muslin) 
gown with a rose in her hair. 

Reuben. Come here, Ted, and help me. You might as 
well git your hand in. (Martha goes to mirror and 
primps. Teddy helps to fasten his collar and arrange his 
tie, Reuben talking as she does so.) You look sweet 
enough to kiss, as I s'pose a bride had ought to. My, my, 
makes me think of how fine Marthy looked the day we 
got married. Slim and pretty — a half yard of ribbon would 
go round her waist. Now I guess a yard couldn't make it. 

Martha (indignantly, turning around). Reuben Hard- 
acre, what air you a-sayin. I calkerlate I'm about as slim 
waisted as most women o' my age. 

Reuben. How about Sapphira Scriggins. 

Martha. You needn't be classin' me with Sapphiry. 
I'm a sight better lookin' than she is. 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 49 

Teddy. There, now. Uncle, you look fine. {Kisses him.) 

Reuben. I s'pose you think you're the happiest gal in 
the world and that nobody else ever got married before. 
Well, all the fools ain't dead yet. (Pinches her cheek and 
puts on his coat.) 

Martha. Now, that's too bad to talk to Ted like that 
on her weddin' mornin', Reuben. {Crosses to Teddy.) 

Teddy {putting her arms around Martha). Oh, I know 
Uncle Reuben doesn't mean it. Aunt Martha. I don't mind 
him in the least. I am very, very happy, except for one 
thing. If Lizzie could only be happy again. If she would 
only smile and not be so listless. {Sighs.) 

Reuben {drawing the hack of his hand across his eyes). 
There, don't ; don't, Ted, or you'll git me to blubberin', an' 
this has got to be a joyous day. {Sleigh hells are heard in 
the distance.) 

Martha (zt'/rA a sigh). Time and prayer is all that's 
goin' to heal Lizzie's broken heart. But hark, I hear sleigh 
bells. {The hells sound nearer and nearer.) It must be the' 
minister. {''Whoa!" is heard outside. Martha goes to 
the window.) Yes, it be. 

Stamping of feet outside. Enter, L., Arthur and Rev. 
Mason with snozu on their coats. 

Arthur {shakes his coat). Howdy, Aunt Martha and 
Uncle Reuben. (Arthur hurries to Teddy and kisses her.) 

Martha (shaking hands zuith the minister). Howdy, 
Brother Mason. Walk right in. (Helps him off with his 
coat.) This is a happy meeting. 

Rev. Mason. A most joyous occasion, my dear Sister 
Hardacre. 

Reuben. Howdy, Brother Mason. (They shake hands. 
Arthur takes off his overcoat and hangs it up.) 

Rev. Mason (crossing to Teddy). And the little bride. 
(Shakes her hand.) I wish all the joy imaginable. 

Reuben. Well, the preacher's here now, and if you are 
ready to be married you'd better stand up and git hitched. 
(Winks at Arthur.) There's time yit, young man, if you 
want to run. I'll hold the door open. 



50 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Arthur. Oh, I don't want to run away, I assure you. 

Martha. You quit your teasin', Reuben. Let's call Tom 
and Lizzie. We'll go into the parlor. (Takes off .her 
apron.) Come, Brother Mason. 

Reuben. Ain't you gettin' a Httle styl'ish? Fust time the 
parlor's been opened fur two years. {Exit R., Martha, 
Teddy, Arthur and Rev. Mason.) Makes me think of the 
time Martha an' me got hitched, by gosh ! {Exit Reuben, 
R.) 

Sleigh hells are heard. The Old Oaken Bucket verse 
and chorus is sung from the zvings, first in the distance, 
then nearer and nearer. Lizzie enters R. during the sing- 
ing and walks to the zvindow, listens, then goes to table 
and drops into a chair, resting her head on her hands. 

Enter Uncle Reuben at close of song, followed by 
Teddy, Arthur. Rev. Mason, Martha. Jake and Tom, 
laughing and talking. Martha goes to Lizzie. 

Rev. Mason. Accept my congratulations, Mrs. Ames. 

Reuben (goes up and wipes his mouth on the back of 
his hand, takes Teddy's face between his hands and gives 
her a sounding smack on the lips). Mrs. Ames, I s'pose you 
feel pretty sot up, eh? (Shakes Arthur's hand.) Be good 
to her, young man, because she's a powerful sweet little 
woman and she deserves it. (Shouts are heard again and 
sleigh bells. Martha goes to the zcindozv.) 

Martha. Why, there's a hull sleigh load of folks. Land 
sakes, they're turnin' in here. Why, I didn't ask nobody 
to the weddin', (she pauses) for Lizzie's sake. (Starts 
to door L. The door bursts open and a gay party — Miry 
Jones, Mr. and Mrs. G. Whillikins, Ezry Babb and 
Sapphira Scriggins, come in, bringing tzvo large baskets, 
one containing the presents and one the lunch. They shout 
"Surprise! Surprise! Surprise!'' Loud laughter and chat- 
ter, everybody shakes hands and each one says, "Hozvdy 
do, Uncle Reuben. Howdy do, Aunt Martha. Hozvdy, 
Brother Mason,'' etc.) 

Reuben (to Mr. G. Whillikins). How did you find 
the sleddin'? 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 51 

Mr. G. W. Best you ever see. 

Miry (to Martha). We heard Ted was goin' to be 
married, So we invited ourselves as a surprise on the bride. 
(Mr. and Mrs. G. W., Ezry and Sapphira shake off the 
snozv and remove their wraps. Ezry^ who carries the large 
lunch basket, puts it under the table.) 

Martha {apologetically). Well, I'm powerful sorry 
that we didn't invite nobody, but you see the weddin' was 
kind o' sudden. (Martha helps Miry off with her wraps. 
Lizzie slips out R. unobserved by the others except Tom, 
zvho puts his hand on her to detain her, but she shakes her 
head and goes out.) 

Reuben {taking Teddy^s hand, leading her to C. of 
room). Let me interjuce to you all Mrs. Arthur Ames. 

Mr. G. W. You ain't never meanin' to say Ted stole a 
march on us and is married already? Well, I'm goin' to 
be the fust to kiss the bride. {Goes to her and gives her a 
resounding smack. Jake and Ezry crowd around and kiss 
her. Exit Tom, whose thoughts are of Lizzie.) 

Sapphira {coming forzvard). Air we women folks sup- 
posed to kiss the groom? 

Reuben {with a zvink at Arthur). Why, of course. 
Step right up, Sapphiry. (Arthur makes a zvry face and 
Sapphira hugs and kisses him; everybody applauds.) 

Mr. G. W. Fust time you ever kissed a man, Sapphiry? 

Sapphira. Fust time? Humph! I was the belle of the 
county when I was a gal and was engaged fifty-six times. 

Jake {aside). Oh, Lord, what a liar! 

Reuben. Make that fifty-five, Sapphiry, an' we'll be- 
lieve ye. 

Sapphira. I come the nighest to bein' married the last 
time, but the man was drowned just the day before the 
ceremony. 

Mr. G. W. {nudging Reuben). I bet he committed sui- 
cide. 

Sapphira. He was out boatin' and fell into the lake and 
the last words he said was, as he waved farewell, "Tell, 
Sapphiry I died thinkin' of her. {Begins to cry.) 



52 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

EzRY (coming up to her). Ain't it kind of queer he 
could speak when he wuz so full of water, Sapphiry? 
(Everyone laughs.) 

Reuben. Don't spile Sapphiry's story. 

Mrs. G. W. (ivho has taken the basket containing the 
presents to the table zvhile the others talk). Well, let's 
unpack the presents. (All the guests hurry to assist.) 

Miry (handing Teddy an album of red plush). I am 
appinted by the ladies of the Town Centre Church to pre- 
sent you with an album. 

Teddy. Oh, thank you so much. (Teddy and Arthur 
stand together to receive gifts.) 

Mr. G. W. (to Arthur). And I'm appinted by the men 
of the Town Centre Church to present you with a collar 
and cuff box. (Hands Arthur tzco bright plush boxes.) 

Arthur. I don't know how I can thank you for your 
kindness. 

Sapphira. TVe brought you a quilt I pieced myself. 
(Hands Teddy a patchzuork quilt.) 

Teddy. It is beautiful and so kind of you. 

EzRY (zi'ith a bozv). The United Order of Woodmen 
appinted me to present to the bridal couple this beautiful 
castor to begin housekeeping' on. (Hands Arthur a large 
silver castor containing vinegar, salt and pepper cruets.) 

Arthur. We are very, very grateful, I assure you. 

Martha (lifting up the lunch basket). Well, I'll put 
your lunches on the table. 

Mr. G. W. Come, Ezry, let's have a dance while they're 
settin' the table. 

Mrs. G. W. Well, we ought to go and help Marthy. 

Martha. No, you dance. I kin git along alone. 

Mr. G. Whillikins takes Sapphira's hand, Jake takes 
Miry's, Reuben takes Mrs. G. Whillikins' and Arthur 
takes Teddy's. Everybody talks and laughs. They form a 
set. Ezry stands up on a chair and calls off as they dance. 
Enter Tom, R., z^'ho stands at door leading to the living 
room and looks on. During the dance Martha piles up 
doughnuts, pumpkin pics, apples, etc., on the table. The 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. S3 

Rev. Mason laughs and chats zvith her as she works and 
they eat doughnuts and apples. 

EzRY (calling off, interspersing the music with his own 
remarks and efforts at rhyme. The tune of "Old Dan 
Tucker' is played by the orchestra. Dance must be lively) . 

Everybody bow — salute corners. 

Sashay up and bow to Miry. 

Sashay back and howdy do. 
(First couple, Arthur and Teddy, Jake and Miry go 
to center and back again and bow.) 

Sashay up and bow to Sapphiry. 

Sashay back and you know how. 
(Second couple go to center, return and bow.) 

Fust couple cross over. 

Jake don't try to make a mash. 

Back again. 
(First couple go back to place.) 

Second couple — Steady, Reuben, 

Or, Whillikins your face will smash. 

Back again. 
(Second couple go back to place.) 

Ladies change, and trip so lightly. 

Gorry me, but that was fine. 
(First couple ladies change.) 

Now again and do it sprightly. 

Bet your life you fellers shine. 
(Second couple ladies change.) • 

Give your right hand to your partner. 

Look here, fellers, don't you squeeze. 

Make a grand change everybody. 

That will all the ladies please. 
(While the change is made Ezry says also.) 

Hurry up, Reuben, step lightly ; you're a leetle slow. 

Fust couple lead to the right. 

Bride's a-lookin' mighty sweet. 

Four hands round. There, Jake Tompkins, 



54 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Look out where you put your feet. 
Two couple lead to the right. 
. Uncle Reuben, don't you flirt. 
Six hands round — whew! 

(Whistles.) 

Sapphiry, you had better drop that skirt. 
Three couples lead to the right. 
Sashay all and do your best. 
Circle round and go a-kitin' ; 
Then Til let you take a rest. 

(After the dance is concluded everyone laughs and talks 
loudly and the men seat the zvonien.) 

Mrs.-G. W. (to Miry). Now, Miry, won't you enter- 
tain us with some speakin'? 
. Miry. Oh, I ain't spoke a piece for some time. 

Mrs. G. W. Give us that lovely one about the girl who 
hung onto the bell. (Miry, after some demurring^ stands 
lip and recites very tragically, ''Curfew Must Not Ring 
Tonight/' or any selection. Applause at the close.) 

Miry. Now, it's your turn, Mrs. Whillikins. Sing some- 
thing for us. 

Mrs. G. W. Well, I'm kind o' out of practice. (Rises 
and sings in a cracked voice an old-fashioned air. Ap- 
plause.) 

Reuben. Jake, git up and shake your foot a little. (Jake 
dances a clog. ^Ipplause. The specialties zuill of course be 
changed to suit the abilities of the various actors.) 

Martha. Come, everybody, and git some lunch. 

Reuben. Everybody git partners. (Looks around.) 
Why, where's Lizzie. Did she go out? Go fetch her, Tom. 
(Mrs. G. Whillikins and Miry looks at one another.) 

Tom. Lizzie don't want to come, father. 

Reuben. Don't want to come. Why, bless her heart, 
she must come. I'll fetch her. I couldn't eat without her. 
(He leaves the room.) 

Sapphira (to Martha). Why, Lizzie ain't come back, 
is she? 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 55- 

Martha (nervously, arranging the table). Yes, she 
come back a week ago. 

Mr. G. W. Well, do say. And did her husband come 
with her? 

Reuben enters, bringing Lizzie^ who conies in reluc- 
tantly. All turn to her. 

Mr. G. W. Why, howdy do, Lizzie. We're all glad to 
see you. 

Sapphira. How's Mr. Hayward? Middlin' well, I hope. 

Lizzie (pauses and half turns to go back, speaks with 
agitation). Let me go away to myself, Uncl^. 

Reuben (detaining her). Come, lamb. Get in line. I'm 
goin' to ask you all to say nothin' about Mark Hayward. 
Come on, Lizzie. Ted, you an' your man lead the way. 

Sapphira. Oh, beg pardon. I didn't know Lizzie was 
divorced. 

Lizzie (zvith a sudden little cry of pain). You might 
as well know. I'm not divorced — (hesitates) — not married. 
(A dead silence for a moment.) 

Mr. G. W. (stepping forward). Well, Reuben, I think 
we'll be going. (Takes his zvife by the arm and starts to 
put on wraps.) 

Miry (rising). It's gittin' late. (Gets her coat and 
hood.) 

Sapphira. Land sake ! It is late. (Puts on shawl and 
bonnet. Ezry gets his coat, cap and woolen scarf.) 

Reuben (thunderingly). What! Air you all goin' on 
account of Lizzie? Well git out, the hull bunch of ye — 
an' darn quick ! 
. Martha (sobbing). Oh, Reuben! 

'Lizzie (catching at his arm). No^ no, Uncle. Don't 
send them away. Let me go. I should never have come. 
(Sobs upon his breast.) 

Sapphira (stepping forzvard and tying her bonnet 
strings vigorously as she talks). Well, Reuben Hardacre, 
I must say you're pretty willin' to git rid of your friends. 
You know what we alius thought of you an' Marthy, an' 



OCT 23 md 



56 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Ted, too, but Lizzie alius held her head up higher than the 
rest of us. 

Lizzie (starting to leave the room). I must go. I can't 
endure it. They are right. (Tom stops her, draws her 
to him.) 

Rev. Mason (steps forward and holds out his hand as 
if in supplication). Friends, I pray you, mar not this young 
girl's wedding day. (Places his hand gently upon Teddy's 
head zvhich has drooped upon her husband's breast) with 
bickerings and false pride. You profess to be followers 
of the stainless One, who said, when they brought Him the 
sinner, ''Let him who is without a sin among you first cast 
a stone." 

Tom (stepping forward). Neighbors, I am a man of 
few words, as you know. Lizzie, will you be my wife? 
(Holds out his arms to her.) 

Lizzie. No, no, Tom. I will go. 

Tom. Go? Do you know what these two years have 
been to me? And when you come back, although you 
were so unhappy, the sun shone again. (Holds out his 
arms and she creeps into them. Tom kisses her). God 
bless you, my darling. (The play may close there or ivith 
the words of Sapphira.) 

Sapphira (stepping fonvard). Well, there ain't no ac- 
countin' fur tastes. The idea of him a-takin' her when 
he could git me. 

Curtain, 



DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS. 

Price 15 Cents Each, Postpaid. Unless Different Price is Given. 



M. F. 

Documentary Evidence, 25 min. 1 1 

Dude in a Cyclone, 20 min. ... 4 2 

Family Strike, 20 min 3 3 

First-Class Hotel, 20 min 4 

For Love and Honor, 20 min.. 2 1 

Fudge and a Burglar, 15 min.. 5 
Fun in a Photograph Gallery, 

30 min 6 10 

Great Doughnut Corporation, 

30 min 3 5 

Great Medical Dispensary, 30 m. 6 
<^reat Pumpkin Case, 30 min. ..12 

Hans Von Smash, 30 min 4 3 

Happy Pair, 25 min 1 1 

I'm Not Mesilf at All, 25 min. 3 2 
Initiating a Granger, 25 min.. 8 

Irish Linen Peddler, 40 min... 3 3 

Is the Editor In? 20 min 4 2 

Kansas Immigrants, 20 min.... 5 1 

Men Not Wanted, 30 min 8 

Mike Donovan's Courtship, 15 m. 1 3 

Mother Goose's Goslings, 30 m. 7 9 

Mrs. Carver's Fancy Ball, 40 m. 4 3 
Mrs. Stubbins' Book Agent, 30 

min 3 2 

My Lord in Livery, 1 hr 4 3 

My Neighbor's Wife, 45 min... 3 3 

My Turn Next, 45 min 4 3 

My Wife's Relations, 1 hr 4 6 

Not a Man in the House, 40 m. 5 

Obstinate Family, 40 min 3 3 

Only Cold Tea, 20 min 3 3 

Outwitting the Colonel, 25 min. 3 2 

Pair of Lunatics, 20 min 1 1 

Patsy O'Wang, 35 min 4 3 

Pat. the Apothecary, 35 min... 6 2 

Persecuted Dutchman, 30 min.. 6 3 

Regular Fix, 35 min 6 4 

Rough Diamond, 40 min 4 5 

Second Childhood, 15 min 2 2 

Slasher and Crasher, SO min... 5 2 

Taking' Father's Place, 30 min.. 5 3 

Taming a Tiger, 30 min 3 

That Rascal Pat, 30 min 3 2 

Those Red Envelopes, 25 min. 4 4 
Too Much of a Good Thing, 45 

min 3 6 

Treasure from Egypt, 45 min. 4 1 

Turn Him Out, 35 min 3 2 

Two Aunts and a Photo, 20 m. . 4 

Two Bonnycastles, 45 min 3 3 

Two Gentlemen in a Fix, 15 m. 2 

Two Ghosts in White, 20 min.. 8 

Two of a Kind, 40 min 2 3 

Uncle Dick's Mistake, 20 min.. 3 2 

Wanted a Correspondent, 45 m. 4 4 

Wanted a Hero, 20 min 1 1 

Which Will He Marry? 20 min. 2 8 

Who Is Who? 40 min 3 2 

Wide Enough for Two, 45 min. 5 2 

Wrong Baby, 25 min 8 

Yankee Peddler, 1 hr 7 3 



VAUDEVILLE SKETCHES. I^.ON- 
OLOGUES, ETHIOPIAN PLAYS. 

M. F. 

Ax'in' Her Father, 25 min 2 3 

Booster Club of Blackville, 25 m.lO 
Breakfast Food for Two, 20 m. . 1 1 

Cold Finish, 15 min 2 1 

Coon Creek Courtship, 15 min.. 1 1 
Coontown Thirteen Club, 25 m. 14 

Counterfeit Bills, 20 min 1 1 

Doings of a Dude, 20 min 2 1 

Dutch Cocktail, 20 min 2 

Five Minutes from Yell College, 

15 min 2 

For Reform, 20 min 4 

Fresh Timothy Hay, 20 min... 2 1 
Glickman, the Glazier, 25 min.. 1 1 
Handy Andy (Negro), 12 min.. 2 

Her Hero, 20 min 1 1 

Hey, Rube! 15 min 1 

Home Run, 15 min 1 1 

Hot Air, 25 min 2 1 

Jumbo Jum, 30 min 4 3 

Little Red School House, 20 m. 4 

Love and Lather, 35 min 3 2 

Marriage and After, 10 min... 1 
Mischievous Nigger, 25 min... 4 2 

Mistaken Miss, 20 min 1 1 

Mr. and Mrs. Fido, 20 min 1 1 

Mr. Badger's Uppers, 40 min.. 4 2 
One Sweetheart for Two, 20 m. 2 
Oshkosh Next Week, 20 min.. 4 

Oyster Stew, 10 min 2 

Pete Yansen's Gurl's Moder, 10 

min 1 

Pickles for Two, 15 min 2 

Pooh Bah of Peacetown, 35 min. 2 2 
Prof. Black's Funnygraph, 15 m. 6 

Recruiting Office, 15 min 2 

Sham Doctor, 10 min 4 2 

Si and I, 15 min 1 

Special Sale, 15 min 2 

Stage Struck Darky, 10 min... 2 1 
Sunny Son of Italy, 15 min... 1 

Time Table, 20 min 1 1 

Tramp and the Actress, 20 min. 1 1 
Troubled by Ghosts, 10 min... 4 
Troubles of Rozinski, 15 min.. 1 
Two Jay Detectives, 15 min... 3 

Umbrella Mender, 15 min 2 

Uncle Bill at the Vaudeville, 15 

min 1 

Uncle Jeff, 25 min 5 2 

Who Gits de Reward? 30 min.. 5 1 



A 4{reat number of 

Standard and Amateur Plays 

not found here are listed in 

Denison's Cataloifue. 



T. S. DENISON £i COMPANY. 154 W. Randolph St., Chicago 



OCT 23 1813 



l*OPULAR ENTERTAIN 

Price, Illustrated Paper Covei 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




IN this Series 
are found 
books touching- 
eve ry feature 
in the enter- 
tainment field 
Finely made 
good paper 
clear print and 
each book has 
an attractive 
individual cov- 
er design. 



DIALOGUES 

Ail Sorts of Dialo|{ues. 

Selected, fine for older pupils. 
Catchy Comic Dialogues. 

New, clever; for young people. 
Children's Comic Dtalo{{ues. 

From six to eleven years of age. 
Dialogues from Dickens. 

Thirteen selections. 
The Friday Afternoon DiaIo({ues. 

50,000 copies sold. 
From Tots to Teens. 

Dialogues and recitations. 
Lively Dialogues. 

For all ages; mostly humorous. 
When the Lessons are Over. 

Dialogues, drills, plays. 
Wide Awake Dialogues. 

Brand new, original, successful. 

SPEAKERS. MONOLOGUES 

Choice Pieces for Little People. 

A child's speaker. 

The Comic Entertainer. 

Recitations, monologues,dialogues. 

Dialect Readings. 

Irish, Dutch, Negro, Scotch, etc. 

The Favorite Speaker. 
. Choice prose and poetry. 

The Friday Afternoon Speaker. 
For pupils of all ages. 

Humorous Monologues. 
Particularly for ladies. 

Monologues for Youn^ Folks. 
Clever, humorous, original. 

The Patriotic Speaker. 

Master thoughts of masterminds. 

The Poetical Entertainer. 
For reading or speaking. 

Pomes ov the Peepul. 

Wit, humor, satire; funny poems. 

Scrap-Book Recitations. 

Choice collections, pathetic, hu- 
morous, descriptive, prose, poe- 
try. 14 Nos., per No. 23c. 




015 910 213 



The 

\ 
The . 

Drills that sparkle witn ongmam.,. 
Little Plays With Drills. 

For children from 6 to 11 years. 
The Surprise Drill Book. 

Fresh, novel, drills and marches. 

SPECIALTIES 

The Boys* Entertainer. 

Monologues, dialogues, drills. 
Children's Party Book. 

Plans, invitations, decorations, 

games. 
The Days We Celebrate. 

Entertainments for all the holidays. 
Good Things for Christmas. 

Recitations, dialogues, drills. 
The Little Folks, or Work and Play. 

A gem of a book. 
Little Folks* Budget. 

Easy pieces to speak, songs. 
One Hundred Entertainments. 

New parlor diversions, socials. 
Patriotic Celebrations. 

Great variety of material. 
Pranks and Pastimes. 

Parlor games for children. 
Shadow Pictures, Pantomimes, 

Charades, and how to prepare. 
Tableaux and Scenic Readings. 

New and novel; for all ages. 
Twinkling Finders and Swaying 

Figures. For little tots. 
Yuletide Entertainments. 

A choice Christmas collection. 

HAND BOOKS 

Thu Debater's Handbook. 

Bound only in cloth, dOc. 
Everybody's Letter Writer./ 

A handy manual. 
Good Manners. 

Etiquette in brief form, 'i 
Private Theatricals. , 

How to put on plays, i 
Social Card Games. 

Complete in brief form. 

MINSTRELS, JOKES 

Black American Joker. 

Minstrels' and end men's gags. 
A Bundle of Burnt Cork Comedy. 

Monologues, stump speeches,etc. 
Lau^hland, via the Ha-Ha Route. 

A merry trip for fun tourists. 
Ne^ro Minstrels. 

All about the business. 
The New Jolly Jester. 

Funny stories, jokes, gags, etc. 

Lar^e Illustrated Catalo({ue Free. 



T. S. DENISON £i COMPANY, Publishers, 154 W. Randolph St., Chica^ 



